


Life Cycles

by Lady_Kit



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Body Horror, Eating Disorders, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Soul Sex, Violence, all chapters tagged individually, not smut, not your typical heat fic, sex averse character, strong themes of anxiety and eating disorders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Kit/pseuds/Lady_Kit
Summary: The Fell monsters have never gone into heat before, have never heard of it. Now that they've reached the surface, though, it's only a matter of time before biology reasserts itself.Few of them are taking the news all that well.





	1. Nothing to be concerned about...

**Author's Note:**

> Cast:
> 
> UT Papyrus - Papyrus  
> UT Sans - Sans  
> US Papyrus - Rus  
> US Sans - Blue  
> UF Papyrus - Edge  
> UF Sans - Red  
> SF Papyrus - Slim  
> SF Sans - Razz  
> TF Papyrus - Twist  
> TF Sans -Blackberry  
> Other SF Papyrus - Cash
> 
> More information on Twist, Blackberry, and this version of Cash can be found at [@kitstwistfellau](https://kitstwistfellau.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.
> 
> For a more detailed backstory for Blackberry and Twist, check out [Undertale AU: Twistfell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13036044/chapters/29818281).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus makes an unpleasant discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for anxiety, clinical discussion of mating cycles.

Blackberry and Edge shared a look after both of them glanced at the clock. It wasn’t like Papyrus or Blue to be late—especially not to one of their communal cooking sessions. “Five more minutes,” Edge said authoritatively, “Then we call them.”

Blackberry looked a little uneasy about that, but he nodded. They continued to pull ingredients from the pantry and line them up, preparing. Pizza was on the menu for tonight, and they’d need plenty to feed the eleven skeletons coming over to the Twistfell brother’s house this evening. Plus dessert, of course. Not that the four cooks weren’t up to the challenge, but Papyrus and Blue’s absence was starting to make Edge a little antsy.

Twist was not helping, of course. He leaned on the breakfast bar, pestering the two younger skeletons with inane questions. Finally, Edge had enough and kicked him out of the kitchen, earning a glare from Blackberry. Twist left with a chuckle and a jaunty wave, apparently unaffected by Edge’s banishment. Blackberry, however, glared at Edge. “He was being annoying and you know it,” Edge protested.

“He’s my brother,” Blackberry said sharply, “and this is my house. If you can’t be nice—“

Edge rolled his eyelights, unable to take any of his threats seriously. “Yes. And you can make food for eleven—or _ten_ —people all by yourself, since Blue and Papyrus still haven’t—“

The front door opened and closed, and both Blackberry and Edge turned, looking past the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Papyrus was hurrying through the front door, tying an apron on over his clothing. “MY APOLOGIES! I WENT BY BLUE’S HOUSE TO PICK HIM UP, BUT I’M AFRAID HIS HEAT JUST STARTED, SO HE WON’T BE JOINING US TODAY OR THIS EVENING.” He bustled into the kitchen and surveyed the ingredients laid out on the table. “I SUPPOSE WE SHOULD START WITH THE PIZZA DOUGH?”

But both Edge and Blackberry were staring at him with confusion. “…Heat?” Blackberry finally asked, “Like a fever? Is he sick? Should we bring over some soup?”

Papyrus froze. “TWISTED-ME NEVER TALKED TO YOU ABOUT HEAT CYCLES?” There was a surprising note of irritation in his tone.

Blackberry hesitated. “Should he have?”

Papyrus closed his sockets and took a deep breath. “ONE MOMENT, PLEASE.” He walked out of the kitchen, and Blackberry immediately turned to Edge.

“Do you know what he’s talking about?” he asked.

Edge shook his head slowly, a prickle of warning running along his spine. “No. I don’t.”

“Hmmm.” Blackberry cocked his head. “Maybe…maybe it’s a Tale-verse thing?”

Edge didn’t reply immediately, watching the hall where Papyrus had disappeared. His soul was uneasy, unsettled. “Perhaps.”

Papyrus returned, pushing Twist head of him. Cash, looking amused, trailed behind them. He took a seat at one of the bar stools while Papyrus guided Twist into the kitchen and planted him in front of Blackberry. “EXPLAIN TO YOUR LITTLE BROTHER WHAT A HEAT CYCLE IS,” he ordered, arms crossed.

All eyes were on Twist—Papyrus’s expression was a mix of annoyed and disappointed, while Blackberry just looked curious. Cash, previously amused, now looked just as confused as Blackberry. Edge maintained his blank façade, not allowing either his confusion or his trepidation to slip through. “Uh, sure, sweetheart,” Twist said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Soon as ya explain it ta me.”

Papyrus blinked. “WAIT. YOU DON’T—?” He looked at the other Fell-monsters. “EDGY-ME? WEALTHY-ME? DO EITHER OF YOU…?”

Cash and Edge exchanged a look, neither of them willing to admit ignorance. Finally, though, Edge shook his head, and Cash followed suit. Papyrus looked all of them over, covering his mouth. “OH DEAR,” was all he said. Then he pulled out his cell phone and started to walk outside. “EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT,” he said over his shoulder, “I NEED TO MAKE A FEW CALLS.” The door shut behind him and all the Fell monsters looked at each other.

“…so should we still make pizza?” Blackberry asked.

Edge looked at him, then looked at the ingredients spread out on the table. “I’d rather not spend my time just standing here, but you are free to do whatever you please.” With that, he started measuring out flour and water to make the dough. Blackberry joined him after only a moment.

Edge ignored the way his soul pulsed with anxiety, fixing his attention on measuring and kneading. When Twist appeared at his elbow and asked what he could do to help, Edge immediately set him to washing dishes and wiping down the counters. Without a word of protest—and wasn’t _that_ refreshing?—Twist obeyed, going so far as to start dusting the living room when he ran out of things to do in the kitchen. Cash just sat at the counter, playing solitaire. Papyrus only reappeared briefly to tell them that he was very sorry, but he needed to speak to the Alphys-es and the Undynes. And perhaps the kings and queens. He swore he’d be back later, though. There was something he needed to speak to all the Fell-verse monsters about when he had more information.

Blackberry waved hesitantly as he left, but Edge just focused on the dough under his hands, kneading with more force than was maybe necessary. When the dough was set aside to rise, he and Blackberry started working on dessert. His first suggestion—apple pie—elicited a strange reaction. Blackberry hesitated, eyelights fading out, but Cash raised his head and said, “no apples.”

In other circumstances, Edge might have raised a brow-bone and let it go. But his soul was twisting and churning. He was itching for a fight, for something to push back against. Cash’s commanding tone provided the perfect outlet. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Cash’s sockets narrowed. “too bad. i’m telling you—no apples.”

“And why, may I ask, is that?” he asked. His clipped tone belied the polite phrasing.

“because i said so—“

“Papy doesn’t like them,” Blackberry said, giving Cash a Look. Blackberry might look sweet and cute, but he could recognize a brewing fight when it was taking place right in front of him.

Still glaring at Cash, Edge said, “Then he doesn’t have to eat it. We’re going to have more than one dessert option—and he doesn’t even like sweets to begin with. I see no reason why—“

“you don’t need to know the reason,” Cash snapped.

Sockets narrowed, Edge took a step toward him, but Blackberry got between them, holding up his hands. “The smell makes him nauseous,” he said, looking at Edge. “This is his home too,” he said, speaking slowly, “and apple pie is very fragrant while it’s baking. It wouldn’t be fair to do that to him. Why don’t we make a fruit tart instead? Blueberries and strawberries are in season now, I think.”

Edge blinked, looking down at Blackberry. Only then did he realize how ridiculous he was being. He was allowing stress and anxiety to dictate his reactions, and he was taking it out on Cash. Not that Cash wasn’t making it easy for him. “You should have said so in the first place.”

Not looking up from the cards, Cash said pointedly, “wasn’t aware we owed you an explanation, edgelord.”

Edge took a deep breath, his hand clenching into a fist. Cash refused to meet his gaze, though he could likely feel his sins crawling on his back. Instead, he made a point of shifting through the deck of cards, searching for a king. Blackberry, again, took it upon himself to diffuse the situation. “Cash, why don’t you go to the store and get some strawberries, kiwis, and whatever berries look ripe?”

Cash didn’t look up from the cards. He laid down a king and an ace. Then resumed his search through the deck. “you can’t do it because…?”

Sighing, Blackberry said, “Because Edge and I will be cooking, and Papy can’t drive.” Edge snorted. That wasn’t quite how he would have chosen to phrase that. ‘Isn’t allowed to drive’ would have been far more accurate. “Please? Would you help?”

Cash finished laying down another pair of cards. Then he set the deck aside and stretched. “fine.” Turning his head, he shouted, “twist!” Twist poked his head out of the guest bathroom, where he’d been cleaning.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“grab your shit. we’re going to the store.”

Twist raised a brow-bone, then shrugged and stripped the latex gloves off. “Alright.” He eyed his brother and Edge, surveying them. He paused, meeting his brother’s gaze. Blackberry just grinned at him, and Twist shook his head with a sigh. “Play nice while we’re gone, yeah? An’ Edge?”

“Yes?”

“Don’ drink the tea.”

Blackberry looked offended. “ _Papy!_ I would _never_.”

“Jus’ in case,” he said over his shoulder, pulling a jacket on. As soon as he shut the door, Edge looked down at Blackberry, brow-bone raised.

“…what’s wrong with the tea?”

“Nothing! _Nothing_ is wrong with the tea!” But a warm blue flush colored Blackberry’s cheekbones, belying his words. Edge sighed and shook his head, vowing to keep a closer eye on Blackberry while he was cooking. They worked companionably enough after that, though there was a lingering tension in the air that was impossible to ignore. With time, the knots in Edge’s soul started to uncoil, but they only returned, tighter than ever, when his brother arrived.

The normally laid back skeleton still seemed relaxed and at ease, but Edge knew him better than anyone else. He knew his brother’s hands—stuffed into his jacket pockets—were curled into fists, and there was nothing casual about Red’s casual perusal of the living room. He hopped up on one of the bar stools, raising a brow-bone when he saw the cards. Without a thought, he started reorganizing them, likely ensuring that Cash would be able to get pretty far into the game, but wouldn’t be able to beat it without cheating. Were it someone else, Edge might have chastised him, but in this case, he decided that there was no harm in the prank.

While his brother reorganized the deck, he surveyed the two skeletons at work in the kitchen. “where’s the pipsqueak?” he asked.

“In heat, apparently,” Edge said, eyeing his brother carefully. He hadn’t forgotten Papyrus’ surprise that Twist—the only older brother in the house—hadn’t known about heat cycles. While he didn’t think Red would withhold vital information from him, he did know that he and Red didn’t always agree on what was and was not ‘vital information’.

Red raised a brow-bone. “’s that what’s got the creampuff all wound up?”

Edge and Blackberry exchanged a look before they went back to rolling out the dough for the tart. “You know was much as we do at this point,” Blackberry said. “Are you hungry? Do you want any snacks or something to drink?”

“Don’t ask for tea, apparently,” Edge said, earning a glare from Blackberry.

“There’s nothing wrong with the tea!”

Red tugged on his collar, then asked for soda. When he was finished rearranging the deck of cards, he went over and flopped onto the couch, earning the admonishment to take his shoes off. After that, the others started to trickle in. Slim piled onto the couch with Red. Cash and Twist returned in short order, and Twist set the fresh fruit on the counter like an offering, talking excitedly about nothing. It eased a little of the tension in the room, particularly when he picked Slim up off the couch so that he could lay down, explaining, “Didn’ wanna squish ya, sweetheart,” before pulling Slim on top of him.

Red snorted and started teasing them, but Twist just flipped him off and cuddled Slim close. Slim, for his part, relaxed into the hold and started purring in minutes. Cash sat at the bar again, returning to his solitaire, though he kept a wary eye on the trio in the living room. Sans and Razz arrived together—they seemed nearly inseparable since they started dating, and that had only gotten worse when they moved in together—and Sans joined Cash at the breakfast bar, while Razz hovered in the doorway, watching both Blackberry and Edge as they worked.

He didn’t offer to help, but he watched them carefully, asking pointed questions. Edge left Razz-management to Blackberry. He and Cash both fixed on Sans—the only Tale-verse monster in the room. Edge stood at the counter and started cleaning and slicing the strawberries and kiwis. “So, short-stuff,” Edge started slowly, “do you know what’s wrong with Blue?” He kept his voice down, not wanting the other Fell monsters to focus in on them. Blackberry perked up, but he maintained his eager smile and continued to keep Razz occupied.

Sans was not a stupid monster, though. He definitely noticed Edge and Cash’s scrutiny. “uh…papyrus asked me to wait until everyone got here to start explaining things.”

Edge and Cash exchanged a look, and Cash leaned on the counter, pulling out a coin to start playing with it. “yeah?” he asked, catching Sans’ eyelight. Edge _immediately_ looked away, keeping his gaze focused on the fruit under his hands.

“uh, yeah?”

“interesting. why’s that, do you think?” Cash asked, his tone casual, even friendly. Which should have been a red flag—Cash didn’t really do friendly unless he wanted something.

“he, uh, he said something about needing visual aids.”

The coin dropped from Cash’s fingers. “why the fuck would he need—?”

“Language!” Blackberry and Twist both said automatically.

Cash turned on the stool to glare at Twist. “you swear all the time!”

“We’re in mixed company, asshat.”

“Papy!”

“Whoops! Sorry, bro.”

Sans, however, raised a brow-bone. “…mixed-company?”

Blackberry looked up at him. “Yeah. I mean. You’re Tale-verse, right? We should at least try to clean up our language for you.”

Sans opened his mouth. Shut it. Furrowed his brows. Then finally just gave up and shrugged. “sure, kiddo. why the fuck not?”

Blackberry’s sockets went wide, and he blushed a deep blue, while Razz snickered at his discomfort. Muttering something under his breath, Blackberry finished rolling out the last pizza. He set them all in the oven to bake before starting to work on the toppings. He asked for requests, and that’s how they ended up making one with everything, another that was just cheese, a third with pepperoni and mushrooms, and the last was divided down the middle, one half loaded with vegetables and the other half layered with ham and pineapple.

By the time the pizzas were going back into the oven to melt the cheese and soften the vegetables, Papyrus had returned, dragging Rus along behind him. In other circumstances, Edge might have considered cornering his boyfriend and prying the information out of him, but Papyrus and Rus were both wheeling what appeared to be a giant blackboard into the house.

He blinked, watching them push the thing through the carpet and set it in front of the couch. How did they even…? Where did they find it? How did they get it here? Why did they _need_ it?

Edge just took a deep breath and returned to cooking, determined to keep his hands busy. At some point, Rus came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Edge’s waist and resting his chin on Edge’s shoulder. “how’re things, precious?” he murmured against Edge’s acoustic meatus, earning a soft flush. Normally, Edge didn’t like pet names or endearments. They carried some…unpleasant memories. But whenever Rus called him ‘precious’, his soul warmed. Perhaps because he really did feel precious in Rus’ arms.

He swallowed down the sentiment, locking it away. “I’m more than a little curious about the blackboard,” he said, drying his hands on a dishtowel. “Care to share?”

Rus winced, noticing the tension in Edge’s bones. “it’s nothing bad,” he said, squeezing him. “papyrus just wanted to make sure we were able to explain things as thoroughly as possible. but i just….” He pulled back slightly to look at Edge. “you’ve really never gone into heat?”

“No. Should I have?”

Rus looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t answer, and that only caused Edge’s anxiety to ratchet higher. Was there something wrong with him? With all of them? Or maybe there was something wrong with the Tale-verse monsters? Rus noticed his sudden tension immediately. “hey, hey. it’s okay. just give papyrus a few minutes to set things up, and we’ll explain everything. promise.” He kissed Edge’s cheekbone, and Edge allowed his sockets to slide shut. He laid his hands overtop Rus’, lacing their fingers together. He allowed his breathing to sync to Rus’, and his body relaxed.

He raised Rus’ hand and kissed the knuckles. “Thank you,” he murmured, “Now get the fuck out or start washing dishes, you lazy-ass.”

Rus snickered and surprised him by picking up a sponge and starting help with the dishes. Edge dried the clean dishes when he was finished with them, unable to withhold a smile when Rus knocked his hips into Edge’s. Blackberry chastised them both when they started to get a little too enthusiastic, sounding tired. Cash, glaring at the cards spread out before him, snapped, “keep the cutesy shit to yourselves. you’re spoiling my appetite.”

Edge turned, about to snap back, but Twist appeared behind him, his grin shark-like. Winking for Edge’s benefit, he leaned down and spoke into Cash’s acoustic meatus. “Sounds like someone’s a little jealous. ‘s matter, sweetheart? Feelin’ _bonely_?”

Cash sputtered, “no!” Then he protested violently when Twist just picked him up and carried him over to the couch.

“Don’ worry, darlin’. We’ll fix that.” He plunked Cash down on the couch, right beside Slim, who covered his mouth to conceal his grin. He could not hide the flush of violet across his cheekbones, however. Cash’s working socket went wide, and he froze, apparently unsure what to do with himself—especially when Twist sat on his other side, sandwiching him between himself and Slim. “There now. Tha’s better, right?”

“this isn’t—i didn’t—“

But Slim laid a hand on his shoulder and asked, voice soft, “is this okay?”

Cash looked between the two of them and huffed, stiffly leaning against the back of the couch with his arms crossed. “twisted, i’m gonna smother you in your sleep.”

“Ooh, _kinky_.”

Papyrus, busy drawing on the other side of the board, peered around the edge. “TWISTED-ME AND WEALTHY-ME, PLEASE KEEP YOUR BEDROOM ACTIVITIES TO YOURSELVES.”

“oh, please,” Cash snapped, “as if i’d stick my dick in _that_.”

Red snorted. “guess we know who tops, then.”

Cash sat forward, glaring at Red, who just shot him a pair of finger-guns. Rus covered his mouth, trying to withhold his laughter. Edge sighed and look skyward, wondering how long before he’d need to rescue the runt from Cash.

Before anything could escalate further, Papyrus announced, “FINISHED! NOW, SHALL WE EAT FIRST? OR—?”

Edge, Blackberry, and Razz spoke overtop each other. “We can eat later, I want to know—“

“—prefer to know what’s going on first, if—“

“I believe this heat cycle business is more pressing than dinner, don’t you?”

The less energetic skeletons didn’t seem to care either way, though Red did mutter, “food’s gonna get cold….”

Twist stretched his legs out in front of him and threw his arm over the back of the couch. “Go on, sweetheart. Say yer piece.”

Ushering Rus out of the kitchen, Edge glanced at Twist, noting for the first time that his eyelight was sharp and hyper-focused, and despite his relaxed posture, his fingers were stiff and tense, digging into the back of the couch. Edge wasn’t the only one ill at ease, then. The revelation was oddly comforting.

Everyone tried to arrange themselves comfortably, which inevitably ended poorly. Blackberry sat on the couch’s armrest beside his brother, while Sans and Razz sat on the floor—the latter rather disgruntled about this, while the former didn’t seem to mind. Until Red propped his feet up on Sans’ head, at least. Sighing, Edge snapped at his brother, ordering him to mind himself. Rus just shook his head, amused, and guided Edge to the breakfast bar. Edge squeezed his hand in thanks—he hadn’t been looking forward to finding a place on the couch and had resigned himself to standing. They wouldn’t have the best view of the blackboard, but he could certainly see it well enough.

Papyrus surveyed them, hands folded neatly. “OKAY. AFTER SPEAKING TO SOME OF THE FELL SCIENTISTS AND RULERS, IT’S BECOME CLEAR THAT, UM, LIVING IN SUCH VIOLENT WORLDS HAS AFFECTED ALL OF YOU MORE THAN WE’D PREVIOUSLY REALIZED.” He took a deep breath and flipped the board, revealing several detailed diagrams and notes.

He started by explaining that going into heat referred to a natural part of a monster’s reproductive cycle, not entirely unlike the estrus cycle of a lot of mammalian species, though there were some very key differences. “THIS ISN’T REALLY ABOUT REPRODUCTION,” he said. Which was obvious. All parties involved in a relationship needed to infuse their magic with Intent to make a new soulling. “NOT IN THE SAME WAY, AT LEAST. IT IS ABOUT FORGING BONDS AND STABILIZING RELATIONSHIPS, THOUGH—A WAY OF PREPARING A COUPLE OR POLY DYNAMIC FOR THE POSSIBILITY OF A CHILD.”

“creampuff, can we speed this up a bit? ‘m gettin’ peckish.”

“I WANT TO BE AS THOROUGH AS POSSIBLE, CHERRY, AND THIS WILL GO MUCH FASTER WITHOUT INTERRUPTIONS.”

Razz and Sans both snickered at the chastisement. “looks like you just got schooled, cherry-pie.”

“fuck off!” Red said, kicking the back of Sans’ head. Before things could devolve any further, Twist crawled across Cash and Slim—earning a protest from Cash and muffled laughter from Slim—and scooped Red into his lap. “hey!”

“What? Jus’ gettin’ comfortable, sweetheart.”

“twist, if you don’t get your feet off my lap, you’re going to lose them,” Cash said, picking Twist’s leg up by his jeans. He grimaced when Blackberry slid off the arm of the couch and into his brother’s vacated spot, but Blackberry just smiled up at him, apparently unaffected when Cash made a point of scooting away from him.

 _CRACK!_ They all flinched and looked back to Papyrus, who smiled sweetly. “AS I WAS SAYING….” He turned back to the board, ignoring the dusty handprint left behind from where he’d slapped the chalkboard. “IT SEEMS THAT FELL MONSTERS STOPPED CYCLING SHORTLY AFTER THINGS BEGAN TO…WORSEN. UNDERGROUND.” His eyelights dipped down, over-bright and sorrowful. “TALE-VERSE MONSTER EXPERIENCED SOMETHING SIMILAR, THOUGH NOT AS SEVERE.” Edge leaned forward, gaze fixed on Papyrus and the blackboard. Even Red, Twist, and Cash grew more sober as Papyrus continued to talk.

As it turned out, none of the Fell monsters knew what ‘going into heat’ meant. Not just the Fell skeletons either. The royal scientists had to do some research on the subject before they made much headway. Older bits of Fell texts referenced monster mating cycles, but after they’d been locked underground, their cycles had faded out until they stopped entirely. Enough time had passed for the knowledge to fade into myth.

The Tale-verse monsters had never stopped cycling, though theirs had slowed significantly. Being on the surface, where everyone was safe and hope came easier, had kick-started their cycles again, and they were coming with greater frequency. It was, really, only a matter of time before the Fell monsters began to experience the same thing. Especially since they were all living in the same universe now and in relatively close proximity to one another. Right now, the Alphys-es, the Undynes, and rulers were all discussing how they should address the matter.

“Nice hist’ry lesson,” Twist said, one arm still looped around Red and feet still attached, despite Cash’s threat. “But ya still haven’t told us what a heat is, exactly.”

Papyrus sighed and looked at Sans and Rus. Edge’s anxiety spiked, but Rus squeezed his hand comfortingly. “don’t worry, edgelord,” he said, for Edge’s ears only, “everything’s fine. it’s not a big deal.”

“WELL.” Papyrus twiddled his thumbs. “ALPHYS HAD A VERY SCIENTIFIC EXPLANATION, ABOUT MAGIC FLUX AND….” He winced a little. “AND IT’S REALLY NOT THAT IMPORTANT. HERE’S WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW. GOING INTO HEAT MEANS YOU’RE GOING TO….” He hesitated for a beat too long.

“you want me to take over, pap?”

“NO! _NO_. I’VE GOT THIS HANDLED, BROTHER, BUT THANK YOU FOR THE OFFER.” He put his hands behind his back and straightened his spine, bouncing on his toes. “FOR ABOUT A WEEK, THOUGH THE ACTUAL LENGTH OF THE CYCLE WILL VARY FROM MONSTER TO MONSTER, YOU’LL EXPERIENCED, UH, INCREASED LIBIDO. AND….”

He looked at his feet, taking another deep breath. “AND DIFFICULTY DISMISSING YOUR SOUL. IT TYPICALLY MANIFESTS EARLY IN THE CYCLE, USUALLY ACCOMPANIED BY MANA DISCHARGE AND A MILD FEVER. YOU’LL LIKELY EXPERIENCE SOME CRAMPING, NAUSEA, WEAKNESS, AND INCREASED APPETITE. IT IS ALSO POSSIBLE—BUT RARE—TO EXPERIENCE SOME MILD DELIRIUM, BUT ALPHYS ASSURES ME THAT THIS IS STILL PERFECTLY NORMAL AND NOTHING TO BE CONCERNED ABOUT.”

Edge stared. It felt like the bottom had dropped out of his soul, like the earth had tilted under his feet. From the couch, Red squeaked. “twist! _twist_! you’re hurting me—“

Twist released him with a shaky apology, but his eyelight was fixed on the blackboard, sockets wide. Cash blinked and leaned against the back of the couch, shaking his head. Blackberry covered his mouth with both hands, sockets wide. Edge couldn’t see Razz from his current position, but he couldn’t imagine that he was pleased either. Slim had pulled his hood over his skull and tucked his face into the ruff, while his fingers gripped his forearm tight enough to bruise.

Rus squeezed Edge’s hand, saying, “see? not a big deal.” Edge stared at him, honestly unable to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

At the board, Papyrus looked at them, still smiling, though somewhat nervously. “DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY QUESTIONS?”

Cash just shook his head and dug his cigarettes out of his pocket. “i need a smoke.”

“WEALTHY-ME—“

The door slammed, and Papyrus winced. “ANYONE ELSE?”

All the Fell monsters started speaking at once.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The focus of this fic will be Spicyhoney, but the TwistedPuppyMoney will be a close second, followed by everyone else. I will attempt to make certain sections--namely the Twistfell sections--skippable, so that those that aren't interested can still follow the story. Hope you all enjoy.


	2. Something to look forward to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Papyrus answers the Fell monsters' concerns, and Rus reassures his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Disordered eating (relatively light), control issues, smoking/cigarette cravings, anxiety. (Brief reference to just how messed up Fell friendships can be. Doubles as an in-joke for anyone familiar with Broken Bones.)

Papyrus held up a hand, motioning for quiet. “ONE AT A TIME, PLEASE. UM…CHERRY? WHAT’S YOUR QUESTION?”

Still sitting on Twist’s lap, Red leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “so…whaddaya do?” he asked, “when yer heat hits?” Then his cheekbones lit up, and he backtracked. “i mean. not _you_ personally but. ya know. generally. what’re we s’pposed ta do?”

Papyrus smiled warmly. “I’M GLAD YOU ASKED, CHERRY! IT IS GENERALLY EASIEST TO MAKE ARRANGEMENTS WITH A HEAT PARTNER AHEAD OF TIME.”

Blackberry squeaked, pulling in on himself, and Twist’s head snapped up, eyelight sharp and alert. “A-a partner?” Blackberry asked. Twist set Red aside and traded spaces with Slim. He laid a protective arm over his brother and looked up at Papyrus.

“Whaddaya mean, sweetheart? Heat partner?”

Edge watched Papyrus too, though he was fairly certain he could guess the answer. “WELL….” For the first time, Papyrus’ express faltered a bit. He cleared his throat and said, “EDGY-ME, LAZY-ME, SANS, AND RASPBERRY ARE ALL FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO HAVE DATE-MATES, BUT I’M AFRAID THE REST OF US WILL NEED TO MAKE ARRANGEMENTS WITH A FRIEND.” His smile returned. “I KNOW SOME OF YOU ARE NERVOUS, AND THIS CAN SEEM…AWKWARD. OR UNCOMFORTABLE. BUT ALLOW ME TO ASSURE YOU THAT THIS IS PERFECTLY NORMAL AND NATURAL—EVEN BEAUTIFUL. WITH THE RIGHT PARTNER, IT CAN BE QUITE ENJOYABLE—“

Sans started coughing and Papyrus looked at him, brow-bone raised. “BROTHER? ARE YOU OKAY?”

Beside Edge, Rus was trying not to laugh. He glanced at Edge and winked. But Edge wasn’t amused. Not at all. Hearing Papyrus describe the process as ‘beautiful’ made his soul lurch, and seeing the Tale-verse monsters laughing and joking around was doing nothing to calm his unsteady soul. To them, it really wasn’t a big deal. It was just another facet of life. And that knowledge just caused him to curl in on himself. ~~They wouldn’t understand his fears. They’d think he was foolish. Think he was making a big deal out of nothing. It certainly didn’t feel like ‘nothing’, though.~~

Twist raised his hand. “An’ what if we don’ have a partner?”

Papyrus shook his head, grinning. “TWISTED-ME, YOU ARE VERY ATTRACTIVE; YOU ARE A VERSION OF ME, AFTER ALL! I AM QUITE CERTAIN YOU WON’T HAVE ANY TROUBLE FINDING A PARTNER. IN FACT, I’M SURE SMALL—“ Slim coughed loudly, and Papyrus abruptly changed course. “—I’M SURE OF IT!” Edge idly wondered if they thought they were being subtle.

Then again, maybe they didn’t need to be subtle. Twist didn’t seem to notice the exchange. His eyelight was bright and fixed on Papyrus, staring him down. “It’s possible, though, right?” Twist asked. “Ya don’ _need_ a partner. _Right_?” His arm was thrown protectively over his little brother, and he was focused and serious. More so than Edge had ever seen him outside of a fight.

Papyrus hesitated. “I SUPPOSE…. BUT SEX OR SOUL-MASSAGE—“ Edge bit down to stifle the sound that tried to escape him at that. “—OFTEN ALLEVIATES SOME OF THE LESS PLEASANT ASPECTS OF HEAT. TRYING TO GO THROUGH IT ALONE WOULD BE…VERY UNPLEASANT. AND IT’S REALLY NOT NECESSARY. IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY WORRIED ABOUT FINDING A PARTNER, ALLOW ME TO ASSURE YOU THAT MYSELF OR BLUE WOULD BE HAPPY TO ASSIST YOU OR ANYONE WITH THOSE CONCERNS.” For a moment, his gaze lingered on Red before skittering away. Coughing to clear his throat, he looked at the rest of them. “ARE THERE ANY OTHER QUESTIONS?”

Twist, again, raised a hand. “Yeah. Got one more for ya. What about our LV?”

Edge’s hand immediately tightened around Rus’ as the breath left him in a rush. He hadn’t even considered that. How could he just _forget_ about his LV? Razz sat up taller as well, the three of them all fixing their eyelights on Papyrus.

For the first time that evening, Papyrus looked acutely uncomfortable. “WELL. WE. UM. I’M AFRAID WE DON’T KNOW, TWISTED-ME. RECORDS FROM BEFORE THE WAR DON’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT LV INTERACTING WITH A MONSTER’S HEAT CYCLE, SO…WE’RE ASSUMING THAT THERE ISN’T ANYTHING TO BE CONCERNED ABOUT. THE ROYAL SCIENTISTS ARE ALL LOOKING INTO IT. WE’LL LET YOU KNOW AS SOON AS WE HAVE MORE INFORMATION.

Twist sat against the back of the couch, posture stiff and eyelight dim. “Thanks, creampuff,” he said, voice stilted. “Helps.”

Wincing, Papyrus apparently decided to assume that was a genuine ‘thanks’ and said, “YOU’RE QUITE WELCOME. ANYONE ELSE?”

Razz asked, “When will this happen?”

“OH. UM. I’M AFRAID I DON’T KNOW THAT FOR SURE EITHER. IT’S GOING TO VARY FROM PERSON TO PERSON DEPENDING ON GENERAL HEALTH, NUTRITION, AND JUST THE NATURAL DIFFERENCES BETWEEN CYCLES. SKELETONS TYPICALLY CYCLE IN SPRING OR FALL, SO YOU SHOULD EXPECT IT SOMETIME IN THE COMING MONTHS OR MAYBE SOMETIME NEXT FALL. IT ALL DEPENDS.”

“What are the warning signs beforehand?” Edge asked.

“YOU MAY HAVE A SLIGHT FEVER THE FIRST DAY, AND YOU’LL LIKELY NOTICE SOME CRAMPING. YOU MAY ALSO FEEL MORE AMOROUS THAN USUAL. THERE ARE SOME NESTING INSTINCTS THAT MIGHT SET IN AS WELL. ONCE AGAIN, THOUGH, IT WILL VARY FROM PERSON TO PERSON.”

Edge nodded, taking that in. Very little warning, then. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like not knowing when it would hit, either. Rus just ran a soothing thumb over the back of his hand.

“ARE THERE ANY OTHER QUESTIONS? WHAT ABOUT YOU, SMALL-ME? ANY CONCERNS? NO? OKAY, THEN. ON A MORE SERIOUS NOTE, THE MONARCHS ARE WORKING WITH THE SCIENTISTS TO DRAFT UP A LETTER FOR THOSE EMPLOYED BY HUMAN AGENCIES—“ Edge barely heard him. He worked with Undyne at the embassy part-time while he went to school. He had no human employers to worry about, though he didn’t envy the others that particularly awkward conversation. “—NO ONE SHOULD LOSE THEIR JOB OVER THIS, AND IF A HUMAN EMPLOYER GIVES YOU ANY TROUBLE, PLEASE REPORT IT TO—“

While Papyrus spoke about civil rights violations, Edge’s mind whirled. A week. Laid low for an entire week—his very soul exposed for anyone to see. Furthermore, the possibility of ‘delirium’ had his soul pulsing. And the uncertainty of his LV. Would he…would he still be himself, in heat? How much would be remember? How much control would he have over his own mind and body? How—

Rus pulled him closer and asked, “what kind of pizza do you want? pap’s just about talked himself out; i’ll grab you a slice before the rest of the horde descends.” He shook his head—his soul was too unsettled to eat—but Rus raised a brow-bone. “what? you had dinner earlier?” Edge’s jaw tightened and he couldn’t help shooting a glare at Red.

“The runt needs to learn to mind his own damn business,” he muttered. Sometimes, he really wished Red had simply continued to disapprove of the relationship and leave them the fuck alone. At some point, though, he’d decided that they were too serious to ignore and started to feed Rus little tidbits. Making sure he would ‘look after’ his little brother. The fucker.

Smirking, Rus leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, fingers playing over the back of Edge’s hand. “just ‘cause he cares, precious. and i do too. what kind of pizza do you want?”

Sighing, Edge muttered, “Vegetarian. A small slice.”

Rus waggled his brow-bones as he pulled away. “coming right up.”

Recognizing that look, Edge glanced at the others—either zoned out or whispering amongst themselves as well—then hissed, “A _small_ slice, Rus. I’m serious.” Humming, Rus walked around the counter and cut a slice that was anything but small. “ _Rus._ ”

“you don’t have to eat it all, edgelord.” Edge glanced at the others again, but now Red was watching them, and Edge could only subtly flip his boyfriend off and mouth, ‘I hate you’. Completely immune, Rus cut himself a slice of pineapple and ham pizza—the heathen—and kissed the top of his head as he sat beside him once again. Edge sighed and took the plate, looking down at the slice of pizza. At least he knew it was safe. Grumbling, he snatched up a fork and started to pick the toppings off the top, pushing them to the side.

While he dissected his pizza, Papyrus finally seemed to notice that the others were starting to drift off, absorbed in their own thoughts. “WELL, IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS OR CONCERNS, YOU CAN ALWAYS TALK TO ME OR SOMEONE AT THE EMBASSY. MY PHONE IS ALWAYS ON, AND YOU CAN CALL ME ANY TIME OF DAY OR NIGHT!”

“thanks, creampuff,” Red said, standing up to stretch. “ya did good—“

“ACTUALLY, CHERRY, I’D LIKE TO ASK YOU—“

Red flushed brilliantly and started fast-walking away. “can it wait a bit? gonna see if i can find cash an’ get ‘im up ta speed.”

“OH. UM. ALRIGHT. LATER, THEN.”

Soon, everyone was crowded into the kitchen, plating up and digging cans of soda or condiments or bottled water out of the fridge. There was talking and a low level of chatter, but no banter, no life to the conversations. All of them were absorbed in their own thoughts. Even Twist was subdued, sticking close to his brother. Papyrus tried, briefly, to get everyone interested in a board game, but he was voted down and, in the end, Sans popped a movie into the player. Edge recognized the Pixar logo, but after that, he registered almost nothing. He busied himself by cutting the pizza crust into bite-sized pieces and pushing them around his plate. He ate most of pizza, but slowly, tasting nothing but ash, the crust heavy in his mouth.

Recognizing Edge’s mood, Rus leaned over and draped an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. “you wanna take off early?” he asked.

 _Yes_. “I should help Blackberry clean up.”

“i think he can probably manage on his own. twist and pap will be around to give him a hand anyway.”

Edge’s jaw clenched. Normally, he’d dig his heels in and insist they stay to help, but his soul was uneasy and unsettled—not helped by the fresh influx of magic still incorporating into it. “Fine,” he said, “We can go.”

Still grinning, Rus stood with a stretch. “welp. think we’re gonna head out. thanks for dinner, ‘berry.”

“O-oh!” Blackberry said, jumping up from the couch. “You’re leaving already? But—we haven’t had dessert yet!”

Tugging on his brother’s sleeve, Twist said, “Let ‘em take a plate ta go, bro.”

“That’s really not—“

“Of course, brother! Wonderful idea!” Then Blackberry darted away to prepare a plate of berry tart and brownies for them. Edge sighed. He’d tried.

Looking over at them, Twist grinned, and Edge braced himself for a lewd joke, but Twist surprised him by saying, “Do me a favor an’ make sure Cash hasn’ killed the runt, yeah?”

Edge sighed. “Killing him would require effort, and I don’t think Cash cares enough to actually try.”

“True. Runt’s pretty fast too. Not like ‘im ta miss dinner, though. Why doncha remind ‘em both we got food for ‘em, huh?”

While Blackberry returned and pressed the plate into Rus’ hands, Edge nodded and wished everyone else a good night. He thanked Papyrus for his lesson, but regretted it almost immediately. “YOU’RE WELCOME, EDGY-ME. AND NEVER FEAR—YOU’VE GOT NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. LAZY-ME WILL TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOU.” Edge’s cheekbones flushed crimson, but he kept his chin lifted.

“I’m certain you’re—“ he started, words stiff. But Rus wrapped an arm around his waist and, chin on Edge’s shoulder, nuzzled against the side of his neck. It caused all of Edge’s bones to lock into place, fighting down the urge to push him away. It was a loving gesture, he knew. Meant to be playful and teasing. ~~He shouldn’t feel like pushing him away or running off or like he was being strangled he shouldn’t he shouldn’t he _shouldn’t_ —~~

“damn right, i’ll ‘take care’ of him,” Rus purred. Sans started laughing, and Papyrus chastised him for being lewd, even as he tried to hide a smile.

For the first time in a long while, Edge felt very, very alone in his lover’s arms. But Twist and Slim and Blackberry weren’t laughing either. Their features were sober and somber and sympathetic. They understood, he realized, and just that bit of understanding allowed him to relax his shoulders and snap at Rus. “Watch it, or you’ll be ‘taking care’ of yourself for the foreseeable future.”

“aw, babe, i was kidding—“

While Rus apologized—teasingly, not realizing that Edge had, for a moment, been truly upset—the others’ well-wishes followed them out the door. Outside, the cooling air hit him just as Rus wrapped an arm around his hips. He shut his sockets briefly, grateful for the drop in temperature. He hadn’t realized how oppressive that room felt until now. Leaning into each other, the couple walked down the drive in companionable silence.

At the foot of the drive, they paused and searched for a glimpse of Cash or Red. It was Edge that first spotted the red glow of a cigarette’s cherry. He looked up at the roof, but the street was unlit, and the cigarillo only faintly illuminated Cash’s face. The rest of him was in shadow, and Edge couldn’t tell if Red was still with him. When Edge had stared longer than was polite, Cash raised the hand that held the cigarillo and his face passed into shadow. He might have been waving. He might have been telling them to piss off. Probably the latter.

Edge called out, “Where’s Red?”

“not his keeper, edgelord. in fact, i think that’s your job, isn’t it?”

Edge started to grind his teeth, but Rus squeezed his hip in warning. He pulled out his cell phone and texted Red. Thankfully, Red was still Fell enough to shoot back a quick reply. “He’s at Grillby’s, apparently.” While Edge couldn’t say he approved, he could certainly understand it. After texting Twist to tell him they were both okay, Edge flipped Cash off before turning his back and allowing Rus to escort him to his motorcycle. He ignored the sensation of being watched, ignored the awareness of an enemy at his back. Cash wasn’t an enemy. He knew that. He _knew_ it. But he very nearly wished he was. He was keyed up and anxious. Having something to fight, something to push against would make things so much easier.

 ~~His own body was the real enemy, though, and there was no fighting that~~.

Shoving down his feelings, he picked up the helmet and teasingly asked, “Finally willing to let me take you for a ride?”

Rus grinned, pulling him in for a brief kiss before Edge could shove the helmet on. “edgelord, you can ride me anytime. but there’s no way in hell i’m getting on that thing with you.”

Edge snorted and secured the helmet. “Coward.”

“i only have 5 hp. what you call cowardice, i call survival instinct.”

“Fine,” he said, oddly relieved. Rus and Red and the other low-HP skeletons could be so _reckless_ at times—he far preferred it when they were over-cautious. “See you in ten,” he said, mounting the bike.

“ _fifteen_ ,” Rus scolded, “no speeding.”

For just an instant, Edge’s skeletal grin grew fierce. “What kind of guardsman do you take me for?” he teased.

Rus was less than impressed, but his grudging grin betrayed his affection. “the fell kind. drive safe, or i’m calling felldyne.”

“You and I both know she’s more likely to speed than I am.”

Rus risked touching the handgrip—very carefully, aware of how touchy Edge could get about the bike. “please?”

If he wasn’t already seated on the bike, Edge would have kissed him again. “I’ll be careful. Promise. See you at home.”

“see you, edgelord.”

He stepped back and waved one last time before disappearing into the ether. The bike revved to life and Edge took off, though he kept to his promise. The night air nipped at his bones through his heavy jacket, and he relished the sensation, treasured the freedom of the empty streets. It cleared his head and settled his soul, but as he pulled his bike into their garage, the levity of the last few minutes faded. He parked the bike and just stood in the garage for a few minutes, soul pulsing.

He was being foolish. Stupid. _Ridiculous_. This was a perfectly normal, natural part of life. He just. Needed to ignore his concerns. None of the Tale-verse monsters were bothered. And if they weren’t bothered, then he shouldn’t be either. He was _fine_. Perfectly fine. Nothing was wrong—not with him. Not with Rus or any of the others. He was—

His hands were shaking. He shut his sockets and let out a slow breath, closing his hands into fists until the shaking was unnoticeable. Mouth dry, he pushed open the door and stepped into their living room. The condo was small, but it was theirs, even if neither of them were completely unpacked yet. He set his shoes beside the door, hung up his jacket, and crossed the threshold, bare toes clicking against the wooden floors.

He could hear the water running as Rus showered upstairs, and…Edge didn’t know what to do with himself. For the first time in nearly a decade, his fingers twitched with the need for a cigarette. Swallowing, he ran a thumb over his phalange, feeling the distinct ridges where the bone had been broken and healed. Undyne had no patience for the habit and had been brutal in breaking him of it. It would be a shame to undo her hard work.

Instead of pilfering a cigarette from Rus, he stepped into the kitchen and took the clean dishes out of the cabinet. He filled the sink with warm water and started to rinse them off. The hot water seared his bones, and he focused on that, focused on the feel of the sponge between his fingers, and the slide of soap between his joints.

The stair creaked, and he turned slightly, verifying that it was Rus at his back. Already dressed for bed, the other skeleton came up behind him and draped his arms over Edge’s shoulders. He looked past Edge’s shoulder, watching his hands as he worked. For a while, neither of them spoke, then Rus said, “you’re really upset about this whole thing, aren’t you?”

Edge took a breath and set his hands on the rim of the sink, gripping it so hard he was afraid he’d dent the steel. He swallowed hard, unable to answer. Rus knew, though. He understood. Nuzzling into Edge’s cervical vertebrae, he wrapped his arms around Edge’s chest, holding him tight. “i promise, it’s really not a big deal.” It felt like bands were closing around his soul. “pap made it sound really clinical, but it’s not like that.”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat— ~~which should have been impossible skeletons didn’t even _have_ throats~~ —Edge asked, “What is it like, then? Why don’t you explain to me?”

Rus hummed quietly as he considered. “it’s….” He ran his hands up Edge’s ribcage, fingers meeting on his sternum. “you feel hot and sore. a little like being sick only…not. there’s…there’s this moment when you _know_ things’ll either get real nice or real bad, real fast. soon as someone puts their hands on you, though, the scales tip and you feel incredible. like you can’t get enough of them. like you’ll fall apart at the slightest touch. it’s good, precious. real good.” He kissed the back of Edge’s neck. “i’m, uh, i’m actually looking forward to it,” he confessed.

It felt like his soul was in free-fall. “You’re—?” He choked, but Rus hugged him close, a low, rumbling purr vibrating his bones.

“yeah. i am. i know you’ll look after me when my heat hits. i trust you to take care of me and…i hope you trust me to look after you too.”

Edge didn’t want to be looked after. He didn’t want to have his defenses stripped away and his very soul laid bare. Not even with Rus. “I trust you,” he said, and while the words weren’t a lie, they weren’t the whole truth either. He trusted Rus, but he didn’t like being forced to rely on him. How many years, training in the guard? Mastering his magic? His mind? His body? Underground, he’d been famed for his nearly supernatural control. Biology be damned—shouldn’t he be allowed a say in this? Shouldn’t he have the choice?

Throat tight, he nonetheless leaned into Rus, allowing him to hold him up. Rus just held him, still purring faintly. The gentle swaying he affected was soothing, and Edge’s sockets soon slipped closed, their breathing synced. “come upstairs, precious,” Rus said against the side of his skull.

“Let me finish this first.” Rus, thankfully, didn’t point out that he was rinsing off perfectly clean dishes. But he stayed, arms looped around Edge’s ribs or hips. His mouth rarely left Edge’s neck, his collarbone, or his scapula. His fingers ran in soothing fingers over Edge’s hipbones and lightly scratched between his ribs. They talked and teased and…it helped. By the time Edge was finished with the dishes, he was more than happy to sweep his boyfriend off his feet and carry him upstairs, teasingly chastising him for his wandering hands.

They stripped down, and Rus laid him on the bed. Their lovemaking was unhurried and gentle. After, Rus pulled him close and nuzzled into him. “love you, precious.”

The words were still hard to say. It still felt like he was exposing a weak spot. ~~Still felt like the world would snatch Rus away from him, simply because he wanted this so much, because his love ran so deep.~~ So he raised Rus’ hand to his mouth and kissed the metatarsals, squeezing tight. Hoping to convey the intensity of his feelings, even if he couldn’t verbalize them. “You too.”

Rus hummed happily and settled against him, asleep in minutes. Edge laced their fingers together, trying to enjoy the afterglow. However, now that his mind was no longer occupied with the gentle touches and playful teasing, he soon found himself once more thinking about his looming heat. The tight knot settled in his soul once more, and he curled closer, trying to take comfort from his lover’s presence, his reassurances. But he kept circling back to Papyrus’ clinical recitation of the symptoms, back to Twist’s concerns about LV, back to Rus’ soft confession that he was actually looking forward to it. ~~So now Edge had to worry about disappointing him in addition to everything else~~.

Needless to say, he didn’t sleep much that night.


	3. Miles to go before I sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twist has business to take care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Twist
> 
> This chapter has set-up for Blackberry, Cash, Twist, and Red. We touch lightly on Edge, but you can skip this chapter if you're only here for the Spicyhoney.
> 
> Tags: anxiety, unhealthy attitudes about sex, some (unintentional) victim-blaming, oblique references to past rape, references to drugs and drugging, references to poison, nicotine addiction, references to gang-type violence, strip clubs, alcohol use.

Sans and Razz left soon after Edge and Rus. Razz was oddly quiet, but Twist knew better than to try to crack that particular nut. Better to leave him to Sans, if he wanted to keep all his extremities. Red and Cash never returned, so that just left Slim and Papyrus. Normally Twist would be happy to host them—Slim was _always_ welcome, and Papyrus could be quick-witted and clever when he wanted to be—but he was hyper-aware of the figure hunched at his side.

Blackberry wasn’t watching the movie. He put up a good front while he was up and about, serving dessert and making sure his guests were looked after, but as soon as his hands were free, his body went tense and his starry eyelights grew distant and unfocused. Twist very much wanted the others to leave so he could look after his little bro. Thankfully, the movie was just about over. Slim was ready to go— ~~and stars, how was _he_ taking all this anyway? Twist would have to worry about him later, though; the people under his protection came first, then he could start worrying about everyone else~~ —but Papyrus was looking at them, and Twist didn’t like the glimmer in his eyelights.

“I HOPE I ANSWERED ALL YOUR QUESTIONS, TWISTED-ME.”

“Yep. Sure did.” Papyrus opened his mouth, and Twist pretended not to notice, barreling forward. “Hey, Slim? Think ya could help Pretty-me haul this thing out ‘a our livin’ room?” He jerked a thumb at the blackboard, smirking when Papyrus blinked and flushed at being called ‘pretty’. Good. The creampuff would be easier to manage if he was flustered and off-balance.

“sure,” Slim said, popping a sucker into his mouth.

Twist grinned, knuckling the top of his little brother’s head. “Thanks fer coming. Always nice ta host movie night, right bro?” Blackberry shoved his hand away, glaring at him. He smiled at the others, though.

“Yes, we’re always happy to have you. Take some brownies before you go, too. There are plenty. Oh! Slim, do you need more—?” Slim shook his head. “Okay. Let me know if you need a refill.”

Papyrus looked between them. “I SUPPOSE IT IS GETTING RATHER LATE, ISN’T IT? WELL, WE’LL GET OUT OF YOUR HAIR, THEN. SLEEP WELL!”

Twist’s expression grew briefly brittle at the mention of sleep ~~—lying alone in bed tonight was going to be an absolute nightmare dear stars—~~ but he forced the thought away. “You too, darlin’. Night!” Slim took Papyrus’ hand and laid another hand on the blackboard. They teleported to the embassy, and Twist let out a sigh of relief. He turned to his brother, but Blackberry was already starting to gather up plates and forks and cups. “Bro, ya need any help with—“

“Nope!” he said, cheerfully. “I’ve got it handled, brother.”

He scurried into the kitchen, and Twist leaned on the counter, watching his brother fill the sink with hot water and soap. He eyed the dishwasher, but Blackberry took up a pair of rubber gloves and started to wash them by hand, scrubbing forcefully at the plates. “Ya sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“I could help ya load up the dishwasher.”

Blackberry continued to scrub at the same plate. “I’ve got it handled, Papy. Besides, these need to be pre-washed.”

He nodded once. “I could help ya dry—“

“Why don’t you go find Cash? I don’t think he’s eaten yet. What kind of pizza does he like? We’ve got a few slices of ham and pineapple, but I’m not sure he’s—“

Twist scrubbed a hand over his face while Blackberry babbled. “Sans.” He fell silent, clutching the plate too tightly. “C’mon, bro. We gotta talk about this. Whaddaya wanna do when yer heat hits?”

Blackberry dropped the plate back into the water and marched over to the pantry. “I think you need tea.”

Twist sighed. “Bro—“

“You were obviously upset by the…the revelations. This. This evening. We both know how agitated you can get when you’re upset. So. Tea. It is clearly—“

Coming up behind him, Twist held the cabinet closed and looked down at his brother. Blackberry was shaking, his starry eyelights wavering. “We can’t just ignore this, darlin’,” Twist said softly, “The creampuff’s right. We need ta plan ahead. So? Whaddaya wanna—“ He cut himself off when Blackberry started crying. He flinched, worried that he’d pushed too far, too soon. “Aw, shit. ‘m sorry, bro.” He knelt down and folded his arms around his brother. “Didn’ mean ta upset ya.” Blackberry buried his face in Twist’s chest, sniffing as tears started to roll down his cheekbones. Twist ran a hand up and down his spine and scratched along his coronal suture, murmuring soothingly—at least, he hoped it was soothing.

Obviously, they weren’t going to get anywhere tonight. He scooped Blackberry up and carried him out of the kitchen. He started to struggle immediately. “The dishes!”

“Think I can manage on my own, yeah? Hell, might even get Patches ta help.”

Blackberry snorted. “Bet you can’t,” he said, voice still thick from crying.

Smirking, Twist pulled back to look his brother in the socket. “Yeah? What’re the stakes?”

Eyelights gleaming, Blackberry said, “If you can’t, then you have to do the dishes for a week.”

Twist nodded. “An’ if I _do_ convince ‘im, then ya gotta use the healthy recipes book I got fer ya.”

“For a week?!” Blackberry asked, and Twist nodded, smug. “ _Papy_ ,” he whined, “That food is so tasteless and boring.”

“Little less butter ain’t gonna kill ya, bro.”

Blackberry groaned. “Fine, but you have to do the vacuuming too.”

“Sounds fair,” Twist said, chuckling. Down the hall, he shouldered open Blackberry’s door and set him down. “Change yer clothes. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Blackberry sniffed, cheekbones still damp. He dug through his drawers to find a pair of comfortable pajamas, and Twist left him to it. Downstairs, he put the kettle on the stove. While he waited for the water to boil, he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and one of the small bags of loose-leaf tea Blackberry kept in the pantry. Not his special tea—the kind that tasted like dirt and left him muzzy and heavy-limbed, reserved for those moments he couldn’t be trusted to manage his LV on his own. Blackberry only needed something to help him relax. The chamomile and lavender tea would serve, he thought, measuring it out into an infuser. A little honey to sweeten it wouldn’t hurt either.

The kettle whistled and he poured the water into the mug, stirring it so the honey would dissolve. Mug in one hand, he paused at the shelf to select a book, then made his way back up to his little brother’s room. He knocked, and Blackberry said he was decent. The room smelled of lavender, Blackberry’s carpals shining with oil. He was tucked into bed, the stars in his sockets starting to relax into simple circles. Twist scrubbed the top of his head, smirking when Blackberry protested. He set the mug on the bedside table, then settled on the floor beside the bed, back against the mattress. “Ya ‘member where we left off, right?”

Blackberry nodded. It had been awhile since they’d needed to perform this particular ritual, but Twist found the page without comment and started reading. He tried to keep his voice steady and mellow, though he fumbled over a few of the more complex words. He and Blackberry shared an interest in chemistry, even if he was more interested in the things that went ‘boom’ while Blackberry was more interested in toxicology. His vocabulary hadn’t quite caught up with his interests yet, but he was making the effort.

Blackberry listened quietly, sipping his tea and occasionally commenting on a passage. Then, unexpectedly, he asked, “What’re you gonna do, Papy? When….”

Twist shut his sockets and shut the book, marking the page. If he wasn’t certain it’d drive him completely crazy, he’d lock himself in a closet when his heat hit. ~~What if he hurt someone? What if he lost control of himself? What if his LV started acting up? Would he still be himself, during heat? Or would this be the thing that finally made him lose it completely~~? “Ya heard the creampuff, didn’ ya? I ain’t gonna have any trouble findin’ a partner, bro.”

Blackberry made a disapproving sound. “…are you going to sleep with Cash?”

Rubbing at the space between his brow-bones, Twist flinched. “Uh…. Dunno why you’d think that.”

“I’m not stupid, Papy. I see the way he leers at you.”

He exhaled hard. “Sans….”

“He’s going to take advantage of this. He’s going to take advantage of _you_.” More quietly, he said, “And you’re going to let him. You always do.”

Twist rested his forehead in his hands. “Sans…it ain’t…it ain’t like that.”

“You let _her_ —“

He took a sharp breath, his soul knotting in a mix of rage and pain. “I think tha’s more’n enough fer tanight, little bro.” He stood up, taking the empty mug from his brother’s hands. “Think yer settled ‘nough ta sleep?”

Blackberry caught his hand. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t let him hurt you like that. Please, Papy. _Please_.”

Laying a hand on top of Blackberry’s head, Twist leaned down to look him in the socket. “Sans. I told ya b’fore. It…it ain’t always a bad thing. Sex—“ Blackberry jerked away, disturbed at just the mention. Twist closed his sockets, not sure how to talk to his brother when he wasn’t willing to listen. “It c’n be a good thing. If two people—er more; who the fuck am I ta judge?—wan’ each other _like that_ , then it c’n be good. Real good. Cash ain’t…Cash ain’t like Muffet, okay? He ain’t exactly a saint—an’ le’s be honest, neither’m I. But he ain’t a rapist, right? You got that?”

Blackberry wasn’t listening. He was hunched in on himself and staring at the far wall. “Promise me you won’t let him hurt you,” he said again, totally blocking out everything Twist had just said.

Twist sighed. “Fine. Promise I won’ let ‘im hurt me.” He caught Blackberry’s chin and forced him to meet his gaze. “But jus’ remember tha’ you an’ I got two diff’rent definitions ‘a ‘hurt’. Now you gotta promise me ya ain’t gonna poison ‘im if he pisses ya off.”

Blackberry bristled. “If you won’t protect yourself—“

“ _Sans_ ,” he said, voice firm. Blackberry huffed and looked away.

“Fine. I promise I won’t poison him.”

“Good.”

He stood up straight, looking down at his brother’s hunched form. He had no idea what to say, no idea how to help. “G’night, bro,” he said, rubbing a thumb over Blackberry’s forehead to smooth it out. “Sleep well, yeah?”

“You too.” Blackberry hunkered down, drawing the blankets up protectively.

Outside his room, Twist leaned against the shut door and rubbed his forehead. His soul ached. Blackberry had trouble just talking or thinking about sex in a normal context—having something like _heat_ thrown at him was too much. He’d never wanted or asked for any of this ~~and no matter that he claimed no one had touched him _like that_ while he’d been kept as a sweet-piece, Twist had his doubts~~. Anger knotted in Twist’s soul. His brother should not be forced to suffer either pain or what felt too much like rape for his comfort. It seemed so unfair.

His mouth quirked in a bitter smile. When had life ever been ‘fair’, though, right?

Swallowing hard, he went downstairs to finish washing the dishes. He didn’t bother trying to convince Cash to help. He’d be happy to do the dishes for a week or more—Blackberry took on all the household chores with a kind of possessive zeal that just didn’t seem healthy. Twist wanted to help, but Blackberry wouldn’t always permit it. This seemed like a good way to force his hand.

When he finished, he dried his hands and went to go find Cash. He wasn’t in his room, wasn’t in the backyard. Not out front either. With a sigh, Twist marched out to the hall and pulled down the stairs to the attic. He’d refitted it to serve as a third bedroom—his own. Boxes and shelves were haphazardly scattered around the room in a chaotic jumble. He kept telling himself he’d eventually finish unpacking, but he kept getting distracted. He knew where everything was anyway—well, mostly—so it wasn’t exactly high on his list of priorities.

Walking over to the attic window, he pried it open and pulled out the screen. Hooking his hands over the eave, he swung up onto the roof, grateful that skeletons didn’t actually weigh all that much. As he’d thought, Cash was sitting on the roof, smoking. Twist navigated the tiles carefully before plopping down beside the other monster. Cash didn’t even glance at him, but his jaw tightened in irritation.

“Heya, sweetheart,” Twist said, laying down so he could look up at the sky. “Nice night fer stargazin’, yeah?”

“fuck off.”

“Wha’s that? Ya don’ know how ta find the North Star? Here, lemme help. Ya jus’—“

Cash groaned. “what do you want, twist?”

“Wanted ta make sure Red got ya all caught up. Creampuff had some valu’ble facts ta share after ya left.”

“he did. now go away.”

“Hmm? But it’s such a nice night out. Maybe I wanna enjoy the stars, darlin’—ya can’t kick me off my own roof, now can ya?”

“you don’t think so? bend over.”

Twist guffawed, delighted. “Nice one, darlin’.” Cash just grunted…but one corner of his mouth was slightly upturned. And everyone thought the grumpy-bones didn’t have a sense of humor. Settling against the roof, Twist directed his gaze upward, trying to ignore the growing urge to reach into his own pocket and draw out the cigarettes he kept on hand. Instead, he took a coin between his fingers and practiced palming it and playing it over his fingers. “So,” he began slowly, “what’re yer plans?”

“for what?”

“Fer yer heat.”

Cash snorted, taking a long drag on his cigarillo. “why? you offering to help?”

The coin fumbled but he caught it, hiding it up his sleeve. “You askin’?” he countered, ignoring the mix of panic and desire that flared up.

Grinding his teeth, Cash looked resolutely ahead. “if i was?”

Twist looked up at the constellations, tracing them with his gaze. He worked the coin out of his sleeve and practiced palming it, allowing the edges to bite into his metatarsals. Could he help him, when Cash went into heat? Would he be able to stand it, fucking someone that might not be fully aware, that wouldn’t necessarily want him when their mind was clear? Alternatively, could he refuse, knowing that Cash didn’t trust easily, knowing that he’d be leaving him to a week of pain otherwise?

Closing his hand tight around the coin— ~~he didn’t need a cigarette; he didn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t he was trying to _quit_ damn it~~ —Twist said, “If ya asked, I’d say yes.”

Cash exhaled, smoke curling from his mouth and nasal aperture. “i’ll keep that in mind. in case i decide to ask.”

Twist laughed, something in his chest loosening. “Sounds good, darlin’.”

“…you talked to slim yet?”

“Next on my list,” Twist said, again bouncing the coin over his fingers.

For the first time, Cash turned to glare at him, his expression annoyed and accusatory. “he should have been first.”

Slowly, Twist turned to eye him, closing his hand around the coin. Flexing his fingers, he made it disappear into his sleeve once more, then he sat up and leaned into him, socket-to-socket. “I ain’t the only one with a phone, darlin’. Yer so worried, you should call ‘im yerself.” Cash didn’t reply, just glared at him. They didn’t move for a few heartbeats, then Twist pulled away, confident he’d made his point. Cash eyed his cigarillo. It was almost spent. After taking one last drag, he ground it out against the tile. “You gonna head in?”

Cash glanced at him one more time. “yeah. why?”

“Hopin’ I might catch a ride with ya. Yer shortcuts’re faster’n mine.”

Cash nodded. “yeah. guess it’s a pretty long drop from up here.”

Twist waved him off. “I go in through the attic window. Still a bitch, though.”

“bet it is,” Cash said, nodding. Then with a deliberate look, he teleported away, leaving Twist alone on the roof. Twist shook his head, chuckling to himself. He leaned back against the tiles and sighed, looking up at the stars. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate them, a moment to appreciate actually being here, on the surface, free and clear. Whatever new challenges being on the surface might’ve brought, he would always be grateful for that, at least.

He dug a hand into his pocket, reaching for his phone. Just as he was pulling up his contact list, however, it rang. Brow-bone raised, he brought it to his acoustic meatus and said, “Mort’s Mortuary. You stab ‘em, we slab ‘em. How c’n I help ya?”

Red cackled on the other end of the line. “heya, twisted!” he said, too-cheerful. Drunk, Twist thought. “jus’ callin’ ta check in on ya.”

Twist raised a brow-bone, shutting his sockets so he could see Red’s surroundings more clearly. Poor lighting, a rough mix of monsters and men. A topless bunny monster gyrated on a stage near the back of the room, paper money tucked into her G-string. Twist took a moment to admire a few of her moves—stars above, who knew bunnies could even bend that way—then opened his sockets, finding that the sight of stars was less distracting. “’m doin’ jus’ fine, sweetheart. How ‘bout you? Yer bro said ya were at Grillby’s.”

“heh. yeah.” That certainly didn’t look like Grillby’s. “might ‘a mislead ‘im a bit. ‘m at _a_ grillby’s.” Twist allowed himself to chuckle, even as his sockets narrowed. “wan’ed sumthin’ ta keep me little more, uh, occupied. ya know?”

“Oh, yeah. I c’n see that, sweetheart. Turn yer head a bit, huh? There ya go. No reason ya should be the only one ta get a show.”

There was brief silence as Red processed that, then he chuckled. “ah, man. you too? i ferget you an’ boss’re the same, sumtimes.” His head was swaying from side to side subtly. Very drunk, then. Twist’s jaw went tight and he sat up.

“Yeah, sweetheart. We’re two peas in a pod,” he said, barely paying attention to whatever nonsense was pouring out of his mouth. He was about to ask Red where he was, exactly, when the other monster interrupted.

“bet this whole thing’s got ya wound up, huh?” Red asked, and Twist’s bones locked up.

“What makes ya say that, darlin’?” He shut his sockets, starting to get a headache from the split vision, but watching Red’s vision sway subtly was much, much worse.

“peas in a pod, right?” Red murmured, almost as if he was talking more to himself than to Twist. “boss’s gotta be freakin’ ‘bout this whole thing. know ‘e is. but he’s got the ashtray ta look after ‘im. but you an’ slim an’ cash ain’t got a tale-verse bonefriend ta look after ya. ain’t got an’ older bro neither. i worry ‘bout you guys,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Aw, darlin’. Tha’s sweet.” Even if Twist would really rather he minded his own damn business. At least, drunk, he was more honest about his concern. Sober, he never would have admitted to anything. “I’m doin’ jus’ fine. Figure I c’n find someone ta keep me company fer a week, yeah? My face ain’t _that_ bad, is it?”

Red laughed distantly, like he was distracted. “i got a bad feelin’ ‘bout this,” Red said, “boss ain’t gonna take it well. don’ wanna bother ‘im, though. he don’ need his big bro checkin’ in on ‘im like we were still babybones, right?”

It seemed like a genuine question, so Twist said, “No. No, he ain’t gonna thank ya fer stickin’ yer nose where it ain’t wanted, tha’s fer sure.”

“yeah…. i know. i _know_ but…fuck….” He scrubbed a hand over his face and spun on the barstool to lay his head down on the bar. “you an’ ‘im go runnin’, right? will ya…will ya keep an eye on ‘im? make sure he’s, ya know, doin’ okay? eatin’ right? not scrubbing ‘is hands raw ‘er nuthin’.”

“Sure, darlin’. I can do that.”

“an’ yer…if ya ever need ta talk, ya know i’m here fer ya, right? honorary big brother.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I know, and…same ‘ere. Honorary big bro, if ya need one.”

Red snickered. “twisted, yer three years younger’n me.”

“Yeah? Still bigger’n you, ain’t I?” Red laughed and sat up, getting a good look at the green fire monster behind the bar: Boris, the Grillby from Twist’s own universe. Good. Boris might not know Red personally, but he sure as fuck knew Twist well enough to make damn sure that nothing happened to a skeleton monster in his bar. “Hey, sweetheart? Can ya gimme a minute? Gotta check on sumthin’.”

“sure,” Red slurred, motioning to Boris for another bottle of mustard…and something a bit stronger too.

“Good. I’ll call ya right back. Jus’ a minute.” Red nodded and Twist hung up to make a quick call to Papyrus. “Heya, darlin’. Sorry if I woke ya.” All his lights were on, so that seemed unlikely, but Papyrus was the type to appreciate politeness, especially in unusual situations.

“DON’T BE SILLY, TWISTED-ME! IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT; MY DESIGNATED NAP ISN’T SCHEDULED UNTIL TUESDAY. MAY I ASK WHY YOU’RE ON THE ROOF? DO YOU NEED HELP GETTING DOWN?”

“Nah, ‘m fine. Callin’ ‘bout Red, matter ‘a fact. He’s, uh, too drunk ta teleport. Was hopin’ ya’d be willin’ ta pick ‘im up at the bar.”

Papyrus was silent for a few seconds as he dug a notebook out of his bedside drawer. He shifted to hold the phone against his shoulder and he raised a hand to write. “WHERE?”

Twist gave him the address. “Say ‘hi’ ta Boris while yer there, yeah?”

“CERTAINLY. AND…THANK YOU.”

“Anytime, darlin’. Oh and, uh….” He took a deep breath and steeled himself. “Think you an’ Blue’d be willin’ ta…ta talk ta my bro? ‘bout ev’rythin’? He’s, uh…he’s takin’ it pretty hard.” If anyone could get Blackberry to relax, it was Blue and Papyrus.

He could very nearly hear Papyrus smiling on the other end of the line, so pleased to be of assistance. “OF COURSE! I WOULD BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO, AND I’M CERTAIN BLUE WOULD AS WELL. WE’LL SET SOMETHING UP ONCE HIS HEAT IS FINISHED.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. ‘preciate it.”

He hung up and stared at his phone for a few seconds, mind reeling, then he called Red back. They chatted for a while, about nothing in particular. Twist’s job at the auto shop. Edge’s classes. Red’s new apartment. Blackberry’s application to culinary school. They talked until Papyrus showed up, his smile freezing when he saw the strippers. Whoops—looks like Twist forgot to mention that. Red stopped talking as soon as he saw Papyrus, making a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Then, as Papyrus caught sight of him, he choked out, “gottagonowbroi’llcallyabacklater.”

“Sure thing, darlin’. Get home safe, yeah?”

“yeahyeahbye!”

The phone clicked off and Twist tucked it back into his pocket. He looked back up at the stars, wondering if he should try to call Slim. It was getting late by now, and Slim wasn’t like Papyrus or Edge or Twist. He actually needed his sleep, though he struggled with insomnia. If Twist woke him…. Well. Twist didn’t need that on his head.

Stretching, he carefully picked his way across the roof. He crouched down and gripped the edge of the roof, then slowly lowered himself down. The attic window was open in front of him—a small mercy; he’d half-expected Cash to lock him out entirely—and he swung his legs, hooking an ankle around the sill. This was the hard part. Taking a deep breath, he locked both legs around the sill and let go of the eave. For a breathless moment, it felt like he was falling, then he caught the sill in his hands and pulled himself up and through the window.

Safely inside, he grinned to himself, feeling his soul pulse and pound in his chest, and allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. Gripping his cervical vertebrae— _ ~~not~~_ ~~thinking about shattered skulls and broken necks~~ —he replaced the screen, but left the window open. The attic was stuffy and over-warm; a little fresh air would certainly be appreciated. He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and flopped down onto the bare mattress. As always, his gaze briefly caught on the ankle monitor strapped around his tibia and fibia—a condition of his release from the detention center. He shut his sockets and pushed those thoughts away. Not a period in his life he’d like to revisit right now.

One more thing to do, then he could sleep.

He dialed a familiar number and brought the phone to his ear. It rang twice before going silent. His vision doubled, and he was again looking at the same strip club. Red and Papyrus were nowhere in sight, though, which was good. Red was probably too drunk to put two and two together, but Twist didn’t need him getting too curious. “Heya, Grillbz,” he said, and Boris froze. He dropped his gaze to the bar and laid a hand in his field of vision. “Wanted ta thank ya fer lookin’ after my friends,” he said, “’s real nice ‘a ya.”

Boris shaped his hand into the ‘ok’ symbol. Twist scratched along his mandible, still smiling. Hoping Boris could hear the expression in his voice. “Actually, I think I wanna call in a favor.” Boris blinked rapidly, and Twist chuckled. “Any time one ‘a my friends drops in, you gimme a call, yeah?”

Boris’ hand tapped his index finger on the bar once for ‘yes’. “Thanks, sweetheart. Means a lot. An’…I don’ think I need ta remind ya what’ll happen if ya don’ take real good care of ‘em, do I?” Boris glanced at his other hand and its two missing fingers. He looked back to the bar and his undamaged hand. He tapped twice for ‘no’. “Great! Ya always did have a good mem’ry, sweetheart. Makes life so much easier, doesn’ it?” He tapped on the bar once. “Welp. Have a good night, darlin’. Hope business ’s runnin’ smooth fer ya. Lemme know if ya need anythin’, yeah? ‘m always willin’ ta help a friend.”

Boris waved his hand, a quick, short snap of motion, and Twist hung up, drumming his fingers on his thighbone. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to corral his thoughts. For now, he’d done everything he could. He shut his sockets and tried to settle in to sleep.

He still needed to call Slim. Make sure he was doing okay.

He took a breath and tried to burrow into the mattress. In the morning. When he knew Slim was awake, he’d call. He exhaled slowly, pulling a thin sheet over his body. He took a slow, deep breath and tried to relax his bones.

…what was it like, going into heat?

His sockets snapped open. He really, _really_ didn’t want to think about that right now. Rolling his shoulders, he laid flat on his back and took another slow, deep breath. He focused on the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. Focused on the subtle flutter of his soul. Focused on—

_—was it like spider cider the same sudden heat and need irrepressible irresistible—_

—Focused on the way his bones pressed into the mattress. Focused on—

— _that same sense of wanting without wanting until you didn’t even care who it was anymore just as long as there was a warm body and a hot—_

He opened his sockets and sat up. Well. Sleep was not happening tonight, it seemed. He pulled the cord to turn on the light—a bare bulb in the center of the ceiling—and dug through one of the boxes until he found a set of knitting needles and yarn. He shut off the light and—cautiously—climbed down the stairs, listening for any movement. Nothing. Blackberry and Cash were likely sleeping soundly. Taking care to be quiet, he made himself comfortable on the couch, turning on Netflix and picking a show at random, the volume down so low he could hardly hear anything. Once he was settled, he picked up the yarn and started knitting, keeping his hands and mind occupied well into the early morning hours.

He was a Papyrus, after all. How much sleep did he really need, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a reference to a Robert Frost poem ["Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42891/stopping-by-woods-on-a-snowy-evening).
> 
> I...have nothing more about that? It is a needless literary reference, but it's a nice poem, and it's short. Go check it out.


	4. Lazy morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge is certain that today is going to be a good day...until it isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mention of past rape, mention of noncon drugging, mention of sexual slavery, mounting anxiety, **eating disorders**.

Edge woke before the sun rose the next morning, as always. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to Rus’ soft breathing. Sometime during the night, he’d had pulled away from Rus, leaving about a foot of space between them now. He thought, briefly, of scooting over and folding his arms around his lover, but he didn’t want to disturb him.

Instead, he slipped out from under the covers and got into his running gear. He sent quick text to Twist— _Get your ass up—_ and headed downstairs. After briefly stretching, he grabbed his keys and a bottle of water, then headed out the door. It wasn’t yet light out, but it wasn’t quite dark either. The air was damp and cool, the streets hazed with fog. Edge shivered, but only pushed himself to run faster, aware that he’d warm up in time.

The condos ended, giving way to a large tract of new construction. They’d be apartments, Papyrus had said. The embassy owned this area—earning the small community the nickname ‘Monstertown’—and they were in a hurry to build places for the monsters still stuck in the detention centers and refugee camps to live. Edge had been lucky. His position in the guard had gotten him out of the center early, despite his LV, and his connections had made it easy to find a relatively nice place soon after his release. Many monsters hadn’t been quite so lucky, but they were all working hard to change that.

The embassy was going to be a mess, he realized abruptly. Papyrus had told the Fell-verse skeletons all about going into heat, but they’d have to break the news to the rest of the population too. And what about the LV-ridden monsters still in the centers? What if one of them went into heat while they were still incarcerated? Or the monsters in the refugee camps? What if—?

He pushed himself to run faster, jogging down a narrow footpath that snaked alongside a drainage ditch. Trash littered the path, and the cement-lined ditch was tagged with various symbols and signs. Some he recognized from his time in Hotland, and he filed that information away for later. He’d have to bring it up to Undyne. Human bias had enough fuel already—they did not need actual gang activity to stoke that particular fire.

The path opened onto a cul-de-sac, and Twist waved at him from his front porch before jogging over to join him. Though Edge braced himself, Twist didn’t bring up the events of last night. As always, he was talkative, but rather than being annoyed by Twist’s running commentary, Edge was relieved. His own mind was less than hospitable at the moment, and the cheerful but inane chatter gave him something else to focus on.

They ran hard that day, each of them pushing the other to go just a little further, just a little faster. It was exhilarating, and Edge got caught up in the competition—his grin was fierce, almost aggressive and his shit-talk was biting and acerbic. By the time they’d looped back around to Edge’s condo, both of them were soaked with sweat, and Edge’s joints felt loose, even a little shaky. He wanted coffee and a shower—not in that order—and to sit down for breakfast with his boyfriend.

Exchanging a look with Twist, a genuine smile touched his mouth briefly—there and gone before a person could blink—and the certainty that today would be a good day rooted in his soul. He patted Twist on the back companionably, cheerfully telling him to fuck off when he teased Edge about waking his lover for a morning quickie.

Inside, he toed off his shoes and started the coffee maker. Stripping out of his sweaty shirt, he climbed the stairs, but hesitated in the bathroom door. He glanced back at Rus, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, pale bones stark against the black sheets. For a few moments, he indulged himself and allowed his mouth to turn upward in a gentle smile, soul thrumming in contentment. Rus shifted in his sleep, and Edge wiped the smile off his face, ducking into the bathroom to take his shower. Moments later, the shower curtain pulled back and Rus—naked—slipped in behind him. “need me to wash your back, edgelord?”

He chuckled, the sound warm and rich. “You get mine, I’ll get yours?”

“oh, i’ll get yours, all right,” Rus said, caging him in against the shower wall. They kissed under the spray of water, and Edge allowed his hands to settle on Rus’ hips, distal phalanges digging into his iliac crests. He sighed into the kiss, but pushed Rus back before he could get too adventurous.

“We’re wasting water,” he said throatily, and Rus sighed, forehead pressing into Edge’s collar-bone.

“ugh. fine. guess we’ll just have to fuck in the kitchen, then.”

Turning around, Edge started soaping his chest and pelvis. “I’ve already told you at least five times—we are not screwing around in the kitchen. It’s unsanitary.”

“aw, c’mon, precious,” he said, hands around Edge’s waist as he nibbled on his cervical vertebrae. “we can always clean it afterwards.”

“By ‘we’, I assume you’re referring to me?”

Still nuzzled against him, Rus replied, “what can i say? you’re better at it than i am.”

“Hmph. Well. That’s easily solved—you just need to practice.” Rus started to protest, but Edge pushed the washcloth into his hands. “Do a good job, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Rus purred. “with pleasure.”

He lathered the washcloth and scrubbed along Edge’s ribs and spine, his scapulae and iliac crests. Edge pressed his hands against the wall and shut his sockets, allowing himself to relax into Rus’ touch. The water warmed his bones and steam filled his thoracic cavity. His bones went loose and limp, and he smiled slightly. Then Rus tweaked the tip of his coccyx, earning a shriek. Wary of the slick tiles underfoot, Edge nonetheless wrestled his lover under the spray and gave him a brusque scrubbing, trying not to smile while Rus laughed.

They dried off and Edge pulled Rus from the bed when he tried to crawl back between the sheets, reminding him that it was Sunday and the bedclothes needed to be changed. Rus whined, but Edge convinced him to get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast, though he was sure the smell of coffee did more to convince him than anything Edge said or did. Shaking his head, Edge finished getting dressed, then stripped the sheets off the bed and put on a fresh set, carrying the dirty laundry downstairs to start a load. While in the garage, he pulled the clean clothes from the dryer and carried them back into the living room.

Laundry basket on his hip, he dumped the clean clothes on top of Rus as he passed by. “Start folding. I’ll make breakfast.”

Rus blinked, shaking his head. “why do they need to be folded, anyway? we’re just going to wear them—“

“I am not wearing wrinkled shirts, you heathen. Fold what needs to be folded; hang up the rest.”

Despite his protests, Rus nonetheless started folding. “hey, you wanna put on a movie?” he asked, and Edge shook his head, digging a carton of eggs out of the fridge. Sunday was his day off, but he still had chores to do and a midterm to study for and— He straightened and turned to answer, but the denial caught in his throat when he saw the hopeful expression on his lover’s face. It would be nice, he thought, to spend some quality time with Rus as well. Chores could wait, and it was a calculus midterm—he could work on practice problems while they watched the movie.

“I don’t see why not,” he said airily, pulling out a frying pan. “Pick whatever you like.”

Rus’ brilliant smile was more than enough to convince him that he’d made the right choice. Even knowing Rus was bound to pick an old B-movie—likely hoping to get Edge riled up enough to properly roast the shitty production quality and even shittier writing—Edge didn’t mind.

Breakfast was a simple affair—scrambled eggs and toast. He plated the food while Rus started the movie and brought it over on a tray, alongside a pair of mugs. Cream and honey in Rus’ coffee. Nothing in Edge’s. Rus set the basket of clothes aside, and they sat down on the couch to eat together. Edge leaned against him, brow-bone upraised as he watched the scientists on-screen engineer what appeared to be a giant ant. Soon to be unleashed on an unsuspecting township, no doubt. “Where do you even find these movies?” he asked, morbidly fascinated despite himself.

“dollar store, mostly,” Rus said around a mouthful of egg.

Edge nodded slowly, head slightly cocked as the first scientist was decapitated by the ant. Or, rather, as a papier-mâché facsimile of his head was pushed off his shoulders while he tucked his real head ‘inconspicuously’ into his coat. “I see,” Edge said, playing with his food. “Is that where they sell the special effects as well?”

When they were finished eating and the laundry was folded, Edge eyed the dirty plates and the clean clothes. He should wash the former and put away the latter. He should also go get his calculus book and work on some practice problems. And put the sheets in the dryer—

Rus looped his arms around Edge, hauling him up against his chest. He leaned back, using the arm rest as a support, and stretched his long legs out in front of him, hooking one ankle over Edge’s shin. “later, edgelord.”

Feeling the rise and fall of Rus’ ribcage, Edge leaned into him, allowing his skull to fall back against his collarbone. “I have things I should be doing.”

Rus pressed a kiss to his temple. “watch the movie, precious. everything else can wait for an hour or two.”

Edge closed his sockets and sighed, projecting /peace/safety/warmth/security/. “Later,” he agreed, lacing his fingers with Rus’.

On-screen, the giant ant escaped the lab and headed toward the town, amidst the screams of the scientists. In the kitchen, though, Edge’s phone started ringing. Rus tightened his grip. “Rus—“

“let it ring,” he said, holding him close. “it’s sunday morning. whatever it is, it can wait.” Edge considered that, then smoothed a thumb over the back of Rus’ hand. He settled more comfortably against him, and let the phone ring. After the fourth ring, it went silent, and Rus nuzzled against his cervical vertebrae, purring.

The phone started ringing again, and this time, Edge huffed and pulled out of his grip. “no!” he said, “ _edge_ ….”

Edge batted his hand away. “It must be important. If not, then I’ll tell them to fuck off and we can go back to watching this travesty of a movie.”

“ugh. _fine_. since you’re up, can you refill my coffee?”

Shaking his head, Edge answered the phone and immediately pulled it away. He straightened his spine, mentally preparing himself as he listened to Undyne—his Undyne—scream. “Gutter-rat! Where the fuck are you?”

Braced for the assault on his senses, he brought the phone to his acoustic meatus, his ‘phone vision’ granting him a glimpse through Undyne’s eye. “Today’s my day off,” he reminded her, grabbing the coffee pot to top off Rus’ mug. On the other end of the line, the embassy was bustling and busy. Papyrus and Razz were already there, which meant Edge had to join them. He certainly wasn’t going to allow _Razz_ to upstage him.

“We’re putting brochures together and passing information out to the community leaders. Not to mention the center just dropped off another busload of detainees. We’re trying to find housing for them, but we could definitely use an extra set of hands.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Ten,” she challenged.

He nodded and hung up, looking at his phone to avoid looking at Rus. Nonetheless, he heard him stand and felt his arms wrap around his waist. “see you for lunch?” Edge didn’t reply, thinking of the chaos he’s glimpsed. “dinner, then?”

“Dinner,” he agreed. Turning in Rus’ hold, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He suppressed the twinge of guilt he felt, seeing Rus’ disappointed smile. He caught his cheeks between his hands and leaned in for a kiss, slow and sweet, if not wholly chaste. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Rus smiled innocently—and tweaked Edge’s coccyx again. “don’t worry about that, precious. just be home for dinner, and i’ll be happy.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, and he wondered what he’d done to deserve a monster like Rus. “Promise,” he said, before kissing him again.

“you keep that up,” Rus said when they pulled away, “and i’m gonna have to call felldyne and let her know i’ve got you all tied up for the day.”

Edge snorted, pushing him away. “Go watch your movie.”

“see ya, edgelord. drive safe.”

“I will,” he said, grabbing his keys and motorcycle jacket.

“i love you!” Rus called as he slipped into the garage.

“You too,” he replied, then swiftly shut the door behind him.

He drove past the condos and out of the neighborhoods, out to the main thoroughfare. The houses gave way to shops and businesses and restaurants, and the quiet streets grew bustling and busy. Humans wandered in this part of Monstertown, here to sample monster food, to see the man made of fire spin sugar with his bare hands, to watch spider-silk gowns being woven by groups of sapient spiders. They were here to ogle and to gawk, but as long as they weren’t causing trouble, that was fine. In fact, as Papyrus liked to point out, it was an opportunity to earn good will and share their culture with the humans.

 ~~Nevertheless, sometimes, it felt a bit too much like living in a zoo without bars, in Edge’s opinion~~.

The embassy was located at a T-intersection, where the main road met the road that lead into downtown Ebott. It was originally an old schoolhouse, painted brick red and topped with a small steeple for the school bell. It really wasn’t adequate for their needs. The main room wasn’t large enough for the meetings they occasionally called, and there was only a single, small back room to serve as storage, as well as a couple offices and a small parking lot to the rear of the buidling. For now, though, they made it work. Paying for property, construction, and lawyers’ fees was far more important at the moment. Remodeling could come later.

He coasted to a stop at the curb, eyeing the tables out front as he parked. Papyrus and Blue insisted on setting up information booths on the weekends, where volunteers could pass out pamphlets and field questions on monster culture, history, and traditions. Most of the volunteers were Tale-verse, but they’d long since decided that it was important to have at least one Fell-verse monster on hand, in case things got rough. Not that the Tale-verse monsters weren’t capable fighters in a pinch, but they didn’t always recognize a threat when it was staring them in the face.

Edge often served as an unofficial guard for the other embassy employees; not all the humans were respectfully curious, after all. Some came to bait and bully. Officially, though, the multiple Royal Guards had been disbanded. Human authorities had made it abundantly clear that they would not be allowed to maintain any kind of independent military force, nor would they be permitted to maintain their own governing body. The authorities had also been sure to emphasize just how _fortunate_ they were to be permitted any kind of territory at all.

 ~~Never mind that the area around Mt. Ebott had been Monster territory centuries ago, before they were forced out of their homes and imprisoned under a fucking _mountain_~~.

He straightened his spine and marched up the walk, ignoring the stares he received from gawking humans. As soon as he walked into the embassy’s main room, he went still and stiff, put off by the loud chatter and the crowd of monsters, most of them Fell. It became immediately obvious why Undyne had called him here.

She spotted him from across the room and waved him over. He shouldered his way through the crowd, subtly projecting /menace/ to urge the other monsters to part for him. They clasped wrists in greeting, and she clapped him on the shoulder, her heavy metal hand clanging against the bone. Not for the first time, he was grateful for the protective padding of his motorcycle jacket. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago,” she said, her grin shark-like.

“You only called me twenty minutes ago.”

“Details!” she said, waving him off. “Look we’ve got a fresh batch of detainees to get settled and this lot—“ She jerked a thumb at the gathered Fell-monsters. “—needs to learn about the birds and the bees. We’re trying to sort them into types, so the scientists can explain things better, but—“

“They aren’t exactly cooperative, are they?”

She grinned sharply. “Not exactly.”

He sighed. “Where do you want me?”

“Put your lungs to work, gutter-rat—get these assholes sorted out, and keep ‘em in line.”

“I’m a _skeleton_ ; I don’t have—“

“Yeah. But you’re the best drill sergeant I’ve got. Or are you going soft on me?”

He rolled his eyelights but took a deep breath. Then he called out, “ **LINE UP BY TYPE RIGHT FUCKING NOW! ELEMENTALS IN THE SOUTHEAST CORNER. MAMMALS IN THE NORTHEAST. GARDEN-TYPE MONSTERS IN THE SOUTHWEST CORNER. MOVE IT! THAT’S RIGHT _NOW_ , EVERYONE. YOU! YES, _YOU_! SOUTHEAST CORNER—NOW! AQUATIC MONSTERS IN THE NORTHWEST CORNER. REPTILES IN THE MIDDLE. EVERYONE ELSE? GET THE FUCK OUT AND COME BACK IN AN HOUR.** ”

While he shouted, the other former guardsmen rushed forward to usher everyone to their designated spots. There was some token resistance at first, but soon, everyone was grudgingly migrating to their designated areas. “Is that sufficient?” he asked Undyne, and she laughed raucously, clapping him on the back.

“Nice job, gutter-rat. Think you can keep things under control?” He gave her a baleful look, and she snickered. “Right. Then I’m gonna head out and help the less-cool versions of me sort out our detainees.”

He nodded sharply and started patrolling the room, making certain that everyone was well aware of his presence and well knew that he wouldn’t stand for any nonsense. Monsters gathered around the scientists in groups, listening as they described the particulars of their species’ life cycle. Edge paid special attention to the two Tale-verse scientists, afraid their Fell-verse audience might turn on them.

Unfortunately, as he walked the room, he caught snippets of the scientists’ talks.

“—heightened arousal, increased appetite, cramping—“

He’d managed to avoid thinking about his own upcoming heat since this morning, but now the worries came flooding back. Underground, this kind of weakness—this vulnerability—would have been immediately taken advantage of. It seemed hard to believe that the surface was truly that different.

“—m-mild fever—“

He’d seen monsters drugged with Spider Cider and auctioned off to the highest bidder. He’d seen monsters made mindless with the drug, begging and pleading for someone— _anyone_ —to take them. In the guard, he’d seen victims locked into temporary cells to wait out the drug, had heard their screaming, their begging firsthand.

“—unmated pairs would do best to find a temporary partner to share their heat—“

He’d felt it, too. Felt the haze and heat as the cider took effect, warming his bones and forcing his magic to manifest. He knew what it was to both love and hate the person on top of him.

He never wanted his moments with Rus to feel like that, never wanted to associate Rus with ~~his rapist~~ Muffet.

“—y-your souls w-will manifest on the f-first day. This is p-perfectly normal—“

And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? He hated what his LV, what his world had done to his soul. Hated the calcified lump that seemed to sit heavy in his chest. Rus had tried to talk to him about soul bonding on more than one occasion, but he’d avoided the conversation, unwilling to confess he wasn’t even sure he was physically capable of forming a soul bond with anyone. Let alone express the fear that Rus’ soul would somehow be polluted by contact with his.

“—m-may not e-experience heat d-due to age, illness, injury, o-or malnourishment.”

He froze, listening to Swapdyne—who had earned the nickname ‘Doc’—address the gathered elementals. She described how important magic levels were to a monster’s heat cycle, especially amongst those that didn’t have a physical body like the mammals and other animalistic monsters. “N-now that we’re all in a s-safer, m-more secure environment, our bodies and s-souls are preparing to r-reproduce, s-so if you d-don’t have magic to s-spare for a new s-soulling, you l-likely won’t g-go into heat. Intent is required to c-create a new s-soul,” she reminded them, pushing her glasses up, “but this is y-your body’s way of s-stabilizing and s-solidifying your current relationships or a w-way of attracting p-potential mates.”

She started talking about relationships and baby guppies at that point, so he tuned out and moved on. He had no desire for any babybones—now or in the future—and wasn’t worried about any ‘accidents’ of that nature. But his mind had caught on her mention of malnourishment. Caught and held. No, he told himself, circling the room again. _No_. What he was contemplating was completely and utterly insane. He’d put his past behind him. Overcome his demons. He was _better than that_.

Still, as he continued to patrol the room, and as the first batch of monsters was rotated out for a new batch, his mind continually returned to the idea, like a scab he couldn’t resist picking at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The eating disorder stuff is only going to get stronger from here. If it's too much for you, considering abandoning the Spicyhoney story line.


	5. Best laid plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undyne and Edge have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for eating disorders, disordered eating, and sexual humor.
> 
> Focus this chapter is on Edge.

One of the Fell monsters was starting to get agitated, so Edge caught him by the shoulder and dragged him outside to cool off. The monster—a Final Froggit—tore away from him and started hopping around the parking lot as soon as they were outside. Edge just watched passively. He well understood the Froggit’s feelings, and he didn’t object to getting a little fresh air himself.

His gaze was drawn across the parking lot where his Undyne and her Twistfell and Tale-verse counterparts were busy checking in a fresh batch of monsters from the detention center. He didn’t interact much with the other Undynes, which was fortunate. Calling his Undyne ‘Hook’, as her counterparts did, still felt jarring and unnatural, and calling her Tale-verse counterpart ‘Undyne’ even more so. He had no particular attachment to the Twistfell Judge, at least, so calling her ‘Scales’ was not particularly onerous.

“—issued trackers,” Scales said, her voice carrying across the parking lot. She looked out at the gathered monsters, regarding them all with her humorless stare. “They’ll monitor your location and magic usage. If any of your step out of line, we’ll be able to find you and take you out. Understand?”

There was a chorus of nods, and Edge felt a brief surge of gratitude. Despite his LV, he’d only been detained for a month in the Center. His tracker had been removed after three. Being a guardsman with a good track record had definitely benefited him—not to mention the support of his Tale-verse lover and the letters of recommendation from Papyrus, already working as an ambassador. As far as he knew, this was likely the last group to be released from the Centers. For the time being, at least.

Monsters that had shown worrying signs while incarcerated or monsters with particularly high LV had been deemed too dangerous for integration. The humans were still trying to figure out what to _do_ with these monsters—as of now, it seemed like they’d be sent back Underground. A fate that seemed, somehow, much crueler than mere imprisonment.

Twist could easily have been among them. His tracker was still active, and he’d been detained for six months before being released. But for Papyrus’ intercession, he might not have been allowed even that much. He was the very last of the skeletons to be freed, and he’d been on his best behavior ever since. Well. Relatively.

The crowd shuffled as Scales finished her speech, allowing ~~Undyne~~ Hook to take her place. Edge froze in place, his soul stuttering as he caught a glimpse of black carapace. The Spider monster turned, and he forced his breathing to settle and slow. It was a Muffet. Not his, though. His Muffet had been released a few months ago, and she’d quietly disappeared from his life. She’d registered with the proper authorities and applied for relocation. As far as he knew—and he made it his business to know, given their history—she was a law-abiding citizen of a small desert town southeast of Ebott.

He didn’t know which Muffet this was. Not one of the Tale-verse Muffets, of course—they had no LV and hadn’t been detained in one of the Centers. That left Slim’s and Twist’s Muffets. He hadn’t been keeping track of either of them. Honestly, he thought they’d been released early on. Surely, none of them could have been as bad as his. In any case, it was disconcerting to see this one here.

“Hey!” the Froggit said, hopping to get his attention. “I’m ready to go back in now.”

Edge tore his gaze away from the Muffet. “Are you?” he asked, looking the Froggit up and down. He did seem markedly calmer. He wasn’t as jittery, and he even looked a little embarrassed at his earlier behavior. With a short, sharp nod, Edge ushered him back inside, glancing over his shoulder once. The crowd had shifted, though, and he couldn’t see Muffet anymore. He decided to put her out of his mind, though he vowed to ask Hook about her later.

Unfortunately, going back inside, he was only assaulted anew by the talk of monster heats. He braced himself and tried to focus on the monsters he was meant to be watching, making sure that none of them got too agitated. It was hard to ignore the snippets of conversation, though, and harder still to ignore the way his soul pulsed and squeezed in response. He closed a hand around his wrist, locking his arms behind his back, and surveyed the crowd of Fell monsters. He had a job to do. He would focus on it. ~~No matter how the talk of exposed souls made his own soul sink~~.

Finally, the scientists’ talks started to wind to a close, and they instructed the groups of monsters to reach out to their own families and monster types to deliver the news. Any questions they had could be submitted to the embassy. Apparently, they’d be running a new column in the weekly newsletter, where an available Tale-verse monster would be answering any questions about their coming heats or just life on the surface in general. This last had to have been a suggestion from a well-meaning but, ultimately, uninformed Tale-verse monster. Edge could see his own skepticism reflected in the other Fell monsters’ eyes.

“W-we want t-to make this as p-painless as possible,” the Undertale Alphys said, but the Fell monsters were already starting to disperse, talking amongst themselves. She hesitated—she obviously had more to say, but with a wince, she fell silent and let them go. The Underswap Undyne—Edge tried to remember what her nickname was, but he was having trouble with it—patted her on the back supportively. She said something to her, but the door opened behind him, and the warriors swooped in to take their respective girlfriends to lunch.

Hook caught him around the neck and, after knuckling the top of his head despite his very vocal protests, hauled him over to the computer screen Spike—their Alphys—had been using to communicate. Her extreme agoraphobia made it very difficult for her to venture out, so she’d been conducting her talk from the safety of her lab. Hook, one arm still looped over Edge’s neck, propped her free arm on her hip and eyed her girlfriend. “You got food in that cave of yours, babe?” Spike held up a cup of noodles, earning a loud groan from Hook. “I mean _real_ food.”

“This is real food,” Spike grumbled, “It’s got….” She turned the cup and studied the nutrition facts. “All the sodium you could ever want, dehydrated vegetables, hydrolyzed corn protein—you’re always on my ass to eat more protein, right?—and whatever the fuck TBHQ is. See? It’s at least 80% real food.”

Hook glared. “Don’t eat that crap! There should be some leftover spaghetti in the refrigerator.”

Edge raised a brow-bone, very familiar with Hook’s attempts at spaghetti. “Early in the relationship for a murder attempt, isn’t it?”

Spike snickered, and Hook adjusted her grip to clap a hand over his mouth. “Shut it, gutter-rat. No one asked you.” She returned her attention to her girlfriend, saying, “C’mon, babe. You’ll eat something real, right?”

Spike huffed, tossing the noodles over her shoulder. They landed with a solid _plunk_ , and she wandered off screen. “Alright, alright. _Geeze_. I’ll see what I’ve got.”

“Thanks, babe!” Undyne yelled, then turned off the computer. For several seconds, her dopey smile was reflected in the computer’s blank screen. “She’s the best, right?”

Struggling to free his mouth, Edge managed to say, “She’s certainly something.”

His less-than-impressed tone earned him another noogie, then she hauled him out of the room and announced that they were going to get something to eat. With anyone else, he’d have refused—his soul was positively sick, anxious with the looming threat of his heat, and the uncertainty brought on by seeing a Muffet he knew nothing about—but Hook wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not when it came to food. She knew his history, and she wasn’t about to let him backslide. So, with a sigh, he allowed her to drag him out to a nearby café, run by a Tale-verse Vegetoid and their family.

At the counter, she ordered beer for herself and sriracha for him—without asking. He rolled his eyelights, but accepted the drink graciously enough. They took their drinks and sat at a corner booth to wait for their food. At least their server knew how to properly serve a condiment—on the rocks and with a twist of lime. Even after these many years, Grillby still served it in the bottle. What a disgrace. Then again, Red and Sans hadn’t exactly made an effort to set him straight.

Watching the cook, Edge traced patterns in the condensation collecting on the glass, thinking. Hook noticed. Waving a hand in front of his face to catch his attention, she asked, “What’s eating you? You look grumpier than usual.”

He snorted and took a sip, grimacing at the initial burn. “And your resting bitch face seems to be getting worse with each passing year. What’s your point?”

She laughed, fangs flashing. “Don’t make me embarrass you in public, gutter-rat. Cut the shit—what’s up?”

He was not ready to divulge the truth, so he redirected her. “What do you know about the Muffet they released today?”

Understanding—and a there-and-gone flash of fury—flickered over her features. “She’s Twist-verse. Similar record to the one we’ve got. Scales gave her a talking to. Didn’t say anything about giving Trouble a head’s up, though.” As if they didn’t have enough names and nicknames to remember, Hook insisted on assigning all the Papyrus-es her own nicknames. Twist, naturally, was ‘Trouble’. Edge nodded, absently drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “You know anything about her?”

He shook his head. “No. Twist has always been rather quiet about his past. I don’t know what kind of history they have, if any.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Hook shifted so the Vegetoid could set down their plates. Cauliflower rice and vegetable curry for him, and seaweed salad for her. They thanked their server, and Hook idly coiled the tines of her fork through the stringy seaweed. He stirred his spoon through the curry, trying to ignore the way his soul clenched at the strong smell. “You want me to pay him a visit?” she asked, taking a big bite.

He shook his head. “No. I’ll see him tomorrow for our run. I’ll tell him then.” It seemed like most Papyrus-es had some kind of relationship with their ‘verse’s Muffet, but things were always slightly _off_ in the Twist-verse—notably and obviously different in unpredicable ways. It was very possible that Twist didn’t have any kind of relationship with his Muffet, but Edge would rather warn him, just in case. “What name did she register with?”

“Tarantella Tuffet.”

“Cute,” he said dryly. He eyed the curry again, lifting a spoonful up to take a tentative bite. The flavor was strong. Pervasive. Under normal circumstances, he’d probably enjoy it. As it was, though, his soul hitched and he stuck his spoon back in the curry, stirring it idly.

“Is that all that’s bugging you, squirt?”

He didn’t freeze. He deliberately cocked a brow-bone and took a drink. “Why do you ask?”

Her gaze dropped to his curry before she met his eyelight. “Call it a hunch.”

He scowled, annoyed at her sharp eye. “I’ve been talking,” he said sharply, “and I’m not a heathen that talks with her mouth full.” He said the last emphatically, but that only caused her to stick her tongue out at him—and the wad of half-chewed seaweed she’d been eating. He glared at her. “You’re the former Captain of the Guard,” he snapped, “Grow. Up.”

“You first. Eat your veggies, squirt, or I’ll tell your boyfriend you need a spanking.”

His cheekbones flared a brilliant red, and he flipped her off, but he dug into the curry without protest. She would absolutely follow through on that threat, and Edge did not need her giving Rus any brilliant ideas.

His soul roiled as the fresh magic incorporated into it, sitting like a heavy lump in his soul. _(“Malnourished monsters—“)_ No. _No_. He swallowed another spoonful, ignoring the way it seemed to coat his mouth, his tongue. He shut down the inner voice, reminding himself that the very idea was completely insane…even as he mentally calculated his magic input and output for the day. He’d gone for a run, but of course, that didn’t really require much magic. And he’d had a pretty substantial breakfast. A skeleton of his size and general fitness would need—

 _No._ He wasn’t doing this. He _wasn’t._ He stabbed at the curry, jamming the spoon into his mouth almost vengefully. He swallowed the lump of food, ignoring the heat that spread through him as his soul converted it to magic. Nausea rose up, but he pushed it down. It was psychological, not physical. He was fine. He was _fine_. And he needed to eat to maintain his health.

 ~~Even if being healthy meant going into heat once a year. Even if it meant unwillingly exposing his ugly, calcified, scarred soul and~~ —

His throat closed, and he idly stirred the curry. He needed a moment. Just a moment. That’s all. Then he could take another spoonful. He looked up at Hook, weighing his odds. He hadn’t been able to bring it up with Rus, but she was his oldest and most trusted friend. If he could confide in anyone…. “Captain?”

She turned her head, looking him over. “Yeah?”

“How did you take it? When you heard about...?” He gestured loosely, but she raised a brow in reply, forcing him to say, “Your heat.”

Raising her chin, she took a thoughtful bite of her salad, considering his question. “Wasn’t sure how to feel at first,” she admitted, and he nodded stiffly. “It’s not the kind of thing you ever expect, you know? But….” Her grin turned wolfish, predatory. “I’m not exactly gonna say no to a week off work to fuck my girl, you know?” His soul dropped, but her expression was conspiratorial. He was meant to smile and agree and say he felt the same. It’s what she expected of him.

So he did.

Even as his soul sank, heavy and sick, he forced himself to smirk and say, “There are certainly worse ways to spend a week.” The words tasted of ash and dust, and he thought he might vomit.

Hook nodded, pleased, and started talking about Spike’s tight, hot—“ _Undyne!_ ” he hissed, even though he felt like someone had hollowed him out inside. “That is more information than I will ever need to know about your sex life.”

“Fair enough,” she said around another mouthful of seaweed, “We’ll talk about yours instead—“

“We will do no such thing.” He was almost relieved. Their banter was familiar. Comforting. And it gave him something else to focus on. Something else to think about.

“—what’s it like, anyway? Getting Tale-verse tail?”

He put his head in his hands, cheekbones lit with magic. “I don’t even know where to begin chastising you. For the pun? The question itself?”

“Aw, c’mon, gutter-rat! I’m just curious. You guys can form whatever you want, right? So, how’s that usually go? You an ass guy or—“ Her shark-like smile broadened. “—do you go for the pussy? You ever thought about scissoring? I can give you some tips if you—“

He squawked, embarrassed and indignant. “That is none of your business!”

“Hey, you said—“

“I said _nothing_ to invite this line of inquiry!”

Even as they bantered, Edge picked delicately at his food, moving it around rather than truly eating it. If he tried to take another bite, he’d make himself ill. He assuaged any concerns Hook might have by raising his hand and asking for a to go box, though he had no intention of eating it later. They walked back to the embassy, bickering good-naturedly.

All the while, Edge felt like he was talking from behind a wall of glass. Insulated. Isolated. Alone.

-

_It was easy to rationalize, really. Very easy._

Rus came up behind him as he chopped vegetables. He leaned into him, resting his chin on Edge’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around Edge’s waist. “heya, precious. good to have you back,” he said, nuzzling against his cervical vertebrae.

Edge allowed himself a small smile, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. He turned his head, and they kissed—light and sweet. Soft. “I was only gone for a few hours—“

Rus silenced him with another kiss. “most of your ‘day off’, you mean?”

Edge winced. “Once things settle down,” he said, “I should be able to convince them to let me have an extra day in repayment.”

Rus nodded, watching his hands. “what’re you making?”

“Soup,” he said, “Minestrone, to be specific.” Rus grunted in affirmation, still clinging to him. Ordinarily, Edge might have teased him about being so clingy and restricting Edge’s movements, but the contact felt nice after the day he’d had. He found himself leaning back against Rus, a soft purr building in his chest. “Once I get everything into the pot, we’ll leave it to simmer. If you want to pick out a movie….” He knew he was just asking for Rus to pick out something awful—he did not now, nor would he ever understand the declaration that a movie could be ‘so bad, it’s good’—but sitting with his lover on the couch sounded…nice.

Rus seemed rather delighted by the prospect too. He quickly pecked Edge on the cheek before teleporting out to the living room—earning an exasperated chastisement from Edge—and starting to root through his collection of terrible movies. While he searched, Edge finished preparing the soup, giving it a brisk stir and a satisfied nod before he lowered the heat and left the soup to simmer.

 _He just needed_ time. _That’s all. Time to adjust. Time to adapt._

Seeing him in the doorway, Rus jammed a disk into the player before scrambling onto the couch. Edge raised a brow-bone, only for Rus to grin up at him and say, “saved you a seat, edgelord,” while gesturing to his lap. Edge shook his head, gritting his teeth to keep himself from smiling.

“I imagine you think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Rus just smiled. “nah. just desperate.”

That did startle a laugh out of him, quickly silenced. Carefully—mindful, always, of how delicate Rus was—he sat primly between Rus’ thighs and leaned back against his chest. When Rus wrapped his arms around him, he caught one hand and laced their fingers together. Turning his head, he eyed the scrolling credits. In black and white. Of course. “What monstrosity have you chosen for us tonight?” he asked, starting to project / security / safety / warmth / love / very subtly.

Purring quietly, Rus nuzzled into his vertebrae before saying, “ ‘night of the lepus’.”

“…Lepus? What in the world is—?” Then he saw a bunny cross the screen. “…tell me you’re joking.”

Rus shook with laughter. “nope.”

“Bunnies? Are you—fucking _bunnies_?”

“yep.”

Edge shook his head, stunned. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Even the bunnies in my universe aren’t especially threatening.” He sneered in disgust at the humans on screen. Being mauled by _bunnies_. “This is a travesty.”

Rus only laughed harder, cuddling him closer. “edgelord. i love you.”

“Fabulous. I fail to see what that has to do with how absurd this movie’s basic premise is. How does one even come _up_ with such a ridiculous idea? This is—this is pure _nonsense_!” The more worked up he got, the more delighted Rus seemed, so he played into his bemusement and played up his annoyance—pleased to please his lover, even if he didn’t really understand what or why he was so amused.

_He wasn’t going to do it forever. Only for a little while. Only until he was ready._

When the soup was ready, they both ate. And if Edge’s bowl wasn’t as full as Rus’, well he was unlikely to notice. Unlikely, too, to see that Edge’s bowl was mostly broth.

_He’d done this before. He could do it again. But he’d be more careful. More cautious. He’d keep ahead of it, this time. Stay in control. He wasn’t just falling into it out of spite and fear. He was making a conscious, deliberate decision. That made all the difference, surely. He just needed time. And, maybe, to feel like he had some control over his own body. It was fine. This was fine. He wasn’t going to let things get out of hand this time. He was sure of it._

He finished his soup, allowing Rus to let him put off getting up to wash their dishes. Instead, they stayed cuddled on the couch, watching what had to be one of the worst movies in existence.

He had tomorrow completely planned out. He’d get up early and run an extra couple of miles before he met up with Twist for their usual run. He could get away with claiming Twist had brought him a smoothie or something for breakfast—and if Rus wasn’t convinced, he could claim to be late and grab something ‘to go’. They didn’t usually eat lunch together, so he could likely skip it entirely, if he felt it necessary. They always had dinner together, and that he wouldn’t skip. It would be too suspicious _._

_Yes. Yes. His plan was solid. He had everything in hand._

~~Unfortunate that he entirely forgot to warn Twist that his Muffet was out and free.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there aren't enough nicknames to keep track of. I'm going to try to introduce them gradually, and provide context clues (or just outright state) for a character if they've been off screen for a while. But, so far--
> 
> Hook - Underfell Undyne  
> Scales - Twistfell Undyne  
> Undyne - Undertale Undyne (though Edge will sometimes refer to his Undyne as Undyne)  
> Spike - Underfell Alphys
> 
> I'm going to try not to overload you guys with nicknames, really. I know how confusing everything gets.


	6. Cinnamon skulls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackberry's been busy, and Twist just wants Cash and Slim to kiss already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Primary pairing: (Twisted)PuppyMoney, but the focus is more on the developing Puppymoney
> 
> Tags: Fluff and humor. Mostly.

Twist sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he surveyed the kitchen. Cookies, cupcakes, chocolate croissants, éclairs, macaroons, dainties, donuts, and—of course—Blackberry’s famous cinnamon skulls, in every shape, size, color, and flavor imaginable covered every flat surface. Apparently ‘Berry hadn’t been sleeping well either. Behind him, Cash walked into the kitchen and froze. He too paused to study the wealth of baked goods. Underwhelmed, he grunted and made for the coffee machine without a word. He eyed it with disdain, but poured himself a cup anyway—Twist always started it before heading out on his run with Edge, knowing Cash wasn’t wholly functional before his first cup.

Cash took a long drink, apparently immune to the heat of the coffee. As he refilled the nearly empty mug, he finally said, “thought you needed a permit to open a bakery.” He considered the array of donuts, then grabbed one and took a tentative bite. His sockets widened, and he took another bite.

Cringing, Twist looked away, nearly able to taste the cloying sweetness and the grease. “’Berry bakes when he’s upset.” He could probably take some of the sweets to work with him. Hungry mechanics and customers would be happy to pick at the selection. But there were just so _many,_ even that likely wouldn’t be enough. “Wanna help me deliver some ‘a these?”

Cash took a sip of coffee and another bite of donut. “nope.”

Lacking both a car and the ability to teleport, Twist would have a rather hard time delivering them on his own. “Alright, sweetheart. Fair ‘nough.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and started dialing. While it rang, he asked, “Ya got plans fer taday? Goin’ anywhere?”

Cash raised a brow-bone. “no.”

“Great!” Cash’s brow-bones furrowed, and he opened his mouth, about to say something, but Twist turned away. His phone vision had kicked in, revealing the bare walls and cluttered floor of Slim’s apartment, and Twist spoke before Slim could get a word out. “Heya, darlin’! Did I wake ya?” It looked like Slim was still in bed—and bare to the waist. Twist caught sight of his exposed ribs and swallowed hard, shifting his focus to Cash and the kitchen and trying to ignore his second sight.

“no,” Slim lied, rubbing the sleep from his sockets.

“Yeah? Well, I was wonderin’ if ya’d be willin’ ta come over an’ help me out. Got a bunch ‘a baked goods ‘ere. Heh. ‘Berry’s been busy. Wan’ed ta spread the love, you know? Cash can’t eat ‘em all.” Cash flipped him off for that, grabbing another donut before leaving the kitchen to flop onto the couch. Twist shook his head, still grinning in amusement. “So? Ya wanna help? You c’n have first pick if ya do.”

“i’m in.”

“Thanks a bunch, sweetheart. Yer a doll.”

He hung up and flopped onto the couch beside Cash, shifting to rest his feet on Cash’s legs. They were quickly and forcibly removed, but Twist grinned, gaze still on his phone. He sent a group text out to the other skeletons and to Hook—who he still owed for having his back in the Center—asking if they wanted any baked goods. Blue was still out of commission, but Papyrus lived with him and was happy to reply for him. Edge replied with an emphatic no, but Rus messaged him in private, asking if there were any cinnamon skulls. Razz didn’t reply at all, but Sans seemed to take special delight in ordering his boyfriend’s favorite sweets. Razz wouldn’t spoil himself, so Sans was happy to do it for him. Red, of course, wanted a bit of everything. Slim appeared while he was still fielding texts, not even bothering to knock. Cash perked up immediately, though he didn’t say anything.

Perfect.

Twist jumped up and slung an arm over Slim’s shoulders, steering him into the kitchen. “Heya, darlin’. How’re you this fine mornin’, huh? Holdin’ up okay?” Slim smiled, punching him companionably in the chest, and Twist planted a hand on top of his skull and scrubbed his fingers over his coronal suture. “Now what was that fer, huh? Here I am, peacefully offerin’ perfectly good _goodies_ , an’ I get hit fer it?”

Cash watched them closely, eyelights keen and sharp. As soon as Slim looked over at him, though, he was suddenly engrossed in his phone. Smirking, Slim asked, “perfectly good? you sure of that?”

“Welp, Cash’s had two so far, an’ he ain’t dead yet.” Cash froze, mug halfway to his mouth. He turned slowly, glaring at Twist. Twist just winked. “So, sweetheart? How’re ya feelin’? These safe ta deliver?”

Cash’s jaw popped. Then he leaned back against the couch cushions and flipped him off again. “if this is how i die, i’m taking as many of you with me as possible. deliver them.”

“Fair ‘nough. So, sweetheart—pick yer poison,” he said the last to Slim, earning a snicker from him and a growl from Cash. He grabbed a plastic tray for Slim to load up, and whenever Slim started to reach for the smaller or poorly formed treats, Twist slapped his hand away and picked out the best, until Slim finally started taking the best for himself. Nodding approvingly, Twist left him to it and started plating trays for the others. When Slim was finished, Twist grinned at him and said, “Why doncha keep an eyelight on patient zero—“

“twist, i swear on the stars, i will haunt your ass.”

“—an’ I’ll finish up here.”

Slim nodded and snatched up a chocolate croissant before slipping past him. Twist smiled, watching covertly as he approached Cash. He didn’t quite _freeze_ when Slim came to stand in front of him, but his movements were definitely stiff and stilted compared to his normally casual demeanor. He scooted over, clearly inviting Slim to sit, even if he didn’t say anything. His cheekbone was faintly flushed, though he’d deny it if anyone pointed it out. Slim sat beside him and knocked their shoulders together by way of greeting. Cash just grunted, feigning disinterest.

Left to their own devices, the pair of them would probably continue to coexist in awkward silence—Slim was quiet at the best of times, and Cash wasn’t used to speaking in anything other than insults. Luckily for the both of them, Twist was more than happy to break the tension.

He took a deep breath and broke into a loud, slightly off-key rendition of ‘Never Been to Spain’. Irritation crossed Cash’s features, and he took the uneaten remains of his donut and lobbed it at Twist’s head. Laughing, Twist batted it out of the air, snickering. “’s matter, darling? Not a fan ‘a the classics?” The empty coffee mug arched through the air in answer, and Twist caught it readily, still grinning.

“try pink floyd,” Slim suggested, and Twist snickered, familiar with the song he referenced.

“Or maybe sumthin’ by the Man in Black?”

Slim ducked his head and covered his mouth, hiding a grin. Cash just glared at Twist. Though he seemed willing to forgive Slim for his teasing, his irritation only grew when Twist started in on ‘Ain’t no Grave’. Irritated and out of ammunition, Cash turned to Slim and demanded, “you’re really okay listening to this butchery? i thought you liked music.”

Slim shrugged, glancing back at Twist. “i’ve heard worse,” he said, rather charitably.

Twist paused in the middle of boxing a bunch of donuts. “Sweetheart, ’m _hurt_ ,” he protested, “ _Wounded_. Killed by faint praise.”

Shaking with silent laughter, Slim ducked his head, but Cash heaved a sigh. “if only.” He was trying not to smile, though, Twist could tell—and he’d count that as a victory. The tension had bled out of the others’ shoulders too and that was definitely a good sign. He dropped the off-key singing and settled for humming, fluidly shifting through a mental playlist with no regard to chorus, refrain, or genre. Cash and Slim still weren’t really talking, but their silence seemed companionable, rather than awkward. Slim would occasionally nudge Cash to show him something on his phone, earning an amused half-smile.

At last, the final package was wrapped up. Twist stood up straight and surveyed his work, nodding in satisfaction. He washed the icing off his fingers and asked, “Ya ready, sweetheart?” Slim nodded and stretched, extracting himself from the couch.

“see you later, then?” he said, looking at Cash as Twist handed him several bags.

Cash was tense again, and he wasn’t looking at either of them. “i’ll be around.” Slim hesitated, obviously not wholly satisfied with that answer. Twist draped himself over the back of the couch to embrace Cash, earning a growl and a couple fingers in his left socket for his trouble.

“Later, sweetheart,” he said, ignoring the scratch of Cash’s fingers against the interior of his socket. “Sure ya don’ wanna come with us? There’s room in the car.”

“very.”

“Yer loss.” He drew away, fingers tight around Cash’s keys so they wouldn’t make a sound as he pulled them from his pocket. He took the bags from Slim and passed him Cash’s car keys. “Yer drivin’,” he said with a wink.

They managed to reach the door before Cash realized what had happened. Then he was on his feet, and Twist shoved Slim out the door, telling him to run. Doubled over laughing, Slim tried to run for the car door, but Cash teleported in front of it, his arms crossed and his eyelight out. The effect was somewhat ruined when Slim crashed into him, and his eyelight flared bright in surprise. To keep from falling, they wrapped their arms around each other, steadying themselves.

Twist paused, a pleased smile touching his mouth. Cash was looking down at Slim, and Slim was looking up at him. Twist couldn’t see Slim’s expression, but for the moment, Cash’s features were clear of his customary apathetic irritation. His socket was wide, the eyelight bright, and his cheekbone was flushed. Half of his face remained stiff and still, though, and after a moment, the undamaged half shifted to match it. He looked away from Slim, and over to Twist, the irritation genuine now, not just a front. He was still holding onto Slim, though, his arms wrapped protectively around his ribcage.

“you dirty thief. give me back my keys.”

“Aw, sweetheart. C’mon. Neither ‘a us got cars. Yer really gonna make poor Slim teleport all over town ta drop these off?” That was a bit of an exaggeration. They all lived in and around Monstertown, within five miles of each other. Hardly ‘all over town’.

“why can’t everyone come pick it up themselves?” he demanded, “why do you two need to drop anything off for them?”

Twist walked around him, and Slim used the clicker to pop the trunk, smiling cheekily when Cash dropped his skull to glare at him. Twist loaded the boxed pastries into the back and shut the trunk. He draped an arm around Cash’s shoulders, earning a growl. “’S nice, sweetheart. ‘S a nice thing ta do. Tha’s why.”

Cash huffed, unbent. “give me my keys. i’m not letting either of you drive my car.”

Slim looked at Twist, wavering. Sighing, Twist shrugged. “Sorry, darlin’. Guess we’re hoofin’ it.”

Sighing, Slim passed the keys to Cash, who snatched them up. He eyed them both, then unlocked the doors, slipping into the driver’s seat. When neither of them moved, he rolled down the window and demanded, “are we doing this or not?”

They scrambled over each other, running for the car. Twist called shotgun, but Cash refused to unlock the door for him until he agreed to sit in the back. In front, Slim immediately hooked his phone up to the radio and started playing something fast and hard, the bass strong enough to vibrate their bones. Twist grinned and rolled down his window to lean out of it—but pulled his head in when Cash started to roll it back up. He activated the child locks after that, leaving Twist to futilely punch the window controls. “Glad ya decided ta join us, sweetheart.”

“go fuck yourself.”

“Love you too, Patches.” He leaned forward, head between the two front seats. He winked at Slim and said, “Ain’t he sweet? Can’t hardly keep from blushin’ with ‘im around.”

Slim, smiling, looked to Cash and said, quite earnestly, “he’s always been nice to me.”

The engine revved and a hot purple flush graced Cash’s cheekbone. Smiling slyly, Twist reached around the back of Slim’s seat for a fist-bump. Cash just cleared his throat. “well? where are we going?”

Twist cocked his head, considering. “Red’s apartment first.” Cash nodded sharply and pulled out of the driveway, driving faster than was really reasonable in a residential area, but Twist wasn’t about to criticize. Soon enough, they pulled up to an apartment complex, and Cash pulled in to the spot marked with Red’s number. He got out with a disgruntled huff, crossing his arms and following Twist and Slim up the walk. They took the stairs to the second floor and knocked briskly on his door. From the other side, Red asked who it was. There was really only one appropriate answer.

“Stripper gram!”

Cash facepalmed while Slim snickered. The lock clicked open, though, and Red surveyed the trio. “stripper gram, huh? then why am i so disappointed?”

“ ‘Cause we ain’t started strippin’ yet.”

Red shook his head, amused, and held out a hand to accept the box Slim offered. “thanks, but i think i’ll jus’ take the cookies.” He hefted it, peeking inside. His eyelights settled on Twist and he asked, “so, i guess this means ‘berry’s takin’ things pretty hard?”

Twist’s smile went still and stiff. He crossed his arms and shrugged, scuffing one foot against Red’s porch. “Yeah. ‘m meetin’ up with ‘im an’ Pap an’ Blue ta talk in a few days.” Papyrus had said Blue should be over his heat by Saturday, so they’d agreed to meet at Cerulean’s that night. Twist wasn’t precisely looking forward to it, but ‘Berry had only been getting worse and worse as the week wore on, culminating in last night’s baking spree. He rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll, uh, figure sumthin’ out. Pap an’ Blue c’n help ‘im out.”

Red nodded, his own eyelights dim. “yeah. tha’s…tha’s good.” He cleared his throat and looked away, then scratched under his mandible, trying for casual as he asked, “you, uh, you heard from boss lately?”

“Yeah—we’ve been goin’ runnin’, same as usual.”

“an’ he’s…he’s doin’ okay?”

Twist lifted his chin, thinking. “Far as I c’n tell,” he said honestly. Edge was always reserved, always tightly wound and tight lipped. He hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. “Rus’s got ‘im, sweetheart. They’ll take care ‘a each other.”

Red nodded, though Twist could tell he hadn’t eased his mind entirely. “good. yeah. i know.” He cleared his throat, then focused on Cash and Slim.

Sensing his concern, Twist looped an arm over Cash’s shoulders and knuckled the top of his skull, ignoring his protests. “Don’ worry ‘bout grumpy bones ‘ere. I’ll look after ‘im.” Cash growled and elbowed him, knocking a few HP points off. “Aw, c’mon now. That ain’t very nice.”

Cash just glared at him and dusted himself off, clearly disgruntled. Red was grinning at their antics, though. His shoulders weren’t strung quite as taut anymore, and that was good. Then he looked to Slim and asked, “what about you, bro? you got someone…?”

Slim hesitated, and Cash went very still under Twist’s arm. Slim looked away from all of them, dipping his hand into a pocket to retrieve a sucker. He unwrapped it with clumsy fingers, shaking his head as he did. “well.” Red coughed, arms crossed. He looked uncomfortable and unhappy. “ya got my number if ya need it, yeah?”

Sticking the sucker in his mouth, Slim nodded, then said, “same.” They bumped fists companionably, and Twist could feel the tension in Cash’s shoulders. He squeezed them, but Cash just threw his arm off and stomped down the steps.

“you two coming or not?”

Twist shrugged for Red’s benefit. “Looks like we gotta be goin’. Later, sweetheart!”

Red waved them off, and they trailed Cash back to the car. Only for Cash to toss his keys to Slim and say, “just remembered. i’ve got an appointment to get to. don’t crash it and don’t let the idiot drive.” Then he took a shortcut and disappeared.

Trying for cheerful, Twist shoved his hands in his pockets and sidled up beside Slim, knocking their shoulders together. “So, we’re takin’ it fer joyride after all this, right? I c’n call in sick, it’ll be—“

Slim was looking at the keys, shoulders hunched. Twist sighed, silently cursing Cash’s prickly personality. He looped an arm over Slim’s shoulders and pulled him in, resting his chin on top of Slim’s skull. “Sorry, darlin’. If ya gimme the keys, I c’n handle the rest. Promise not ta get pulled over or ta crash it.” Slim shook his head, but he didn’t move. “Ya wanna talk ‘bout it?”

He shook his head again, turning his skull into Twist’s chest. He sighed, sockets shut, then he pulled away and wordlessly got into the car. Twist planted a hand on the hood and slid across it to the other side, scrambling to his feet after he tumbled to the ground. It earned him a smile from Slim, though, so it was worth it. He dusted himself off and slipped into the front seat, pushing it back so his legs would have more room. Slim was a little shorter than Cash, so he had to readjust the mirrors. As he did, he asked, “so…about that joyride?”

Twist grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs referenced are:
> 
> ["Never Been to Spain"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eEBCK-7Fd3E) \- Three Dog Night
> 
> ["Money"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rwPM01cbQBc) \- Pink Floyd
> 
> ["Ain't No Grave"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8wdRAZZyN3w) \- Johnny Cash


	7. Chicken soup for the soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the hardest part is asking for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main couple - Rottenjoke
> 
> This reads more like a sick fic than anything, so if that's not your thing, maybe skip it. It's not necessary for the rest of the fic. 
> 
> Warning for: magic discharge, mild gross-out, self-disgust, very mild themes of self-denial in relation to food (not ED but...it's borderline), description of body fluids, mild soul fondling. Warning for dub-con because it's a heat fic.

Sans opened the door and smiled at the two tall skeletons on his doorstep. He leaned against the doorframe and greeted them both with fist bumps. “heya, girlscouts—what’s this? selling cookies already?”

Twist grinned. “Sure, thing, darlin’. If you’ve got the dough, we’ve got the dough _nuts_.”

Slim handed him a pastry box, looking past his shoulder. He tugged on his sleeve, fingers slipping inside to rub his ulna. “where’s…?” Slim fell silent, and Sans tried not to let his face freeze into a rictus. Underground, Slim and Razz’s relationship had been strained to say the least. They were on the surface now, but Slim still had trouble addressing his brother by name rather than title. Sans tried not to let it bother him, tried to tell himself that they were getting better, but really, it was best if he didn’t think about them at all.

“he’s back in the bedroom. you wanna talk to him?” Slim flinched a little and looked away. Sans’ soul ached. “how about i tell him you stopped by? wished him well?” Shoulders dropping, Slim nodded in relief.

“yeah. thanks.”

Twist tipped an imaginary hat, then linked arms with Slim and said, “Enjoy the cookies, darlin’. Make sure Razz gets a taste, huh?”

“don’t worry—i’ll look after him.” With that, he shut the door and opened the box, grinning when he saw the various treats inside. Razz was gonna be so pissed—he hated having sweets in the house, since he tended to over-indulge his sweet-tooth. “babe?” he called, heading back to the bedroom with the box. He paused in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. “brought you something.”

Miserable, Razz looked up from the nest he’d made of the blankets. “You didn’t tell them, did you?” he demanded, his eyelights unfocused and hazed.

Smirking, Sans sauntered over and set the box on the bedside table. He slid into the nest, wrapping his arms around Razz. Despite himself, the smaller skeleton exhaled shakily and snuggled into him, his bones trembling. “of course not, sweets.” Razz groaned burying his face in Sans’ cervical vertebrae nonetheless.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled.

“but you’re so sweet; what else am i supposed to call you?” He snickered at his own joke, grinning when Razz pulled back just enough to glare at him. His eyelights were dilated, nearly filling his sockets. Sweat beaded on his bones, and his soul was heavy and bright in his chest, shining a beautiful shade of violet. Sans’ magic gathered in his mouth, enticed by the sight.

Seeing his expression, Razz’s eyelights dilated further and his soul pulsed, clear fluid leaking from it and dripping down his spine. In contrast to his obvious need, Razz pulled away from Sans and wrapped himself in the blankets, shivering violently. “Go ‘way,” he mumbled, “I’m sick. I don’t want you to catch it.”

“razz, i told you…you’re not sick. you’re in heat.”

“ _No_.” Razz shuddered. “I’m not.”

Sans sighed. “okay, look…you’re definitely in heat. and i can help you feel better if you just—“ Sans reached for him, but Razz pulled into a tight ball, still shivering.

“Go. Away.”

“it’s my bed too, babe. my house. don’t know where you think i’m gonna go.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“nope. took the week off because my bonehead of a bonefriend is in heat and in need of—“

“I swear if you finish that, I’m going to—“ Razz groaned and curled in on himself, a soft whine escaping him.

Sans scooted closer, reaching out to rub Razz’s back. “cramps?” he asked.

“ _I’m not in heat!_ ” Razz snarled, then curled tighter and shuddered as another cramp wracked him. Sans sighed and pulled away, sitting up. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to figure out what to do. So far, he’d only managed to upset Razz further—and that was only going to make everything worse.

So, with a sigh, he held up a placating hand. “okay, okay. fine. you’re not in heat. but you need to eat, right? looks like you’re losing magic, so you need to replenish it. and it just so happens that i’ve got some nice fresh donuts for you.”

“I hate donuts.”

Sans rolled his eyelights. “uh-huh. yeah. that’s why they always disappear when i buy them.” He pulled the box over and opened it. Razz peered out from his blanket cowl, eyelights glittering. “but, you know, i’m happy to eat these all by myself.” He studied the selection of sweets, keeping an eyelight on Razz. When he went into heat, he always craved sweet and salty foods, and it felt like he was always hungry. He was banking on Razz being similar enough to himself that he’d feel the same.

It seemed to be working, too. Razz watched with keen, eager eyelights as Sans pulled a donut from the box. Maple and bacon flavor, it looked like. He didn’t even manage to take a bite before Razz scooted over and studied the box. “Maybe just one….”

Sans shrugged, as if he didn’t care. Razz could get prickly about the weirdest things. Getting too excited or acting worried would put him off. Better to pretend he just didn’t care one way or another. He pushed the box closer, and Razz surveyed the contents. He chose a chocolate croissant, nibbling on the corner delicately. His blanket slipped a bit, revealing one flushed collarbone. He’d stripped off all his clothes while they slept, and despite his insistence that he was just sick, he hadn’t pulled them back on yet. It gave Sans an idea.

He finished off the donut, licking his fingers—and ignoring Razz’s disgusted expression. Rolling his shoulders, he tugged off his shirt, letting his bones go limp and relaxed as he reclined on the bed. Still picking at the croissant, Razz’s gaze fixed on him. He tilted his head back and started to rub at his lowest rib, moaning lightly. Razz squeaked, scrambling away from him. “What are you doing?!” he demanded.

“what? told you, sweets, it’s my bedroom too. unless you want me to go rub one out on the couch.”

“What? No! But—“ He shivered, watching Sans’ hand as he continued to stroke over his ribcage. He trailed the other down his spine, fingering the sensitive inner vertebrae. Razz swallowed hard. “Do you have to do that right now?”

“is it bugging you?”

“ _Yes_.” His eyelights fixed on Sans’ hands, the half-eaten croissant forgotten for the moment.

“you sure? ‘cause it looks like you see something you like~.”

Razz’s sockets narrowed. “I’m _sick_ , you pervert. And all you can think about is…” He swallowed again, his soul visibly pulsing. He bent, rubbing his sternum as if it pained him. “…stars,” he whined, “what’s wrong with me?”

He sounded so pathetic that Sans felt guilty for trying to manipulate him a moment before. He pulled his hand out of his ribcage and sat up, reaching for him. “razz, look. no, really—look at me. you’re not sick, okay? you’re in heat.” He shook his head, but Sans caught his skull in his hands. “it’s okay. it is. there’s nothing wrong with you. this is normal.”

Razz looked up at him, his sockets wide and frightened. “What if I don’t want this to be normal?” he asked, voice choked. “I never wanted this. I never asked for it. I never—it’s not supposed to be like this. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not to me. It’s not…it’s not fair.”

Sans closed his sockets and reached out to him, pulling him in for a hug. Again, Razz melted against him, nuzzling into his cervical vertebrae. “i’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say. He rubbed Razz’s back, holding him tightly. “but i’m here for you, okay? i know what it’s like. i’ve been in heat a few times myself. i know it sucks. i know it hurts…but i’m here to help.”

Razz’s arms squeezed him, tight enough it was almost painful. “I don’t want this,” he said again, voice cracking.

Sans’ soul ached. “i know, sweets. i know. whatever you need, though, i’m here for you. even if all you want is tea and cookies or whatever.” He winced. He knew it would be better for Razz if they were intimate—even just soul massage could help with the cramps—but he wasn’t going to push him for that, even if it was in his own best interest. “just remember; you’ve still got a choice here, huh? you don’t have to do anything. you still get a say.”

Razz shivered and snuggled closer. “…Can we? Just…just act like I’m sick? Please. I don’t…I don’t want to be in heat.”

“sure.” He kissed the top of his head. “you want soup? it’s supposed to be good for a cold.”

“And suffer through that canned monstrosity you call food? No.”

Sans snorted. “i was thinking about take-out, but—“

“…from that Vietnamese place?”

Sans pet along his coronal suture. “sure, why not?”

Razz nodded. “Later.” He snuggled into Sans, bones starting to relax. He felt hot, likely running a fever. Hitching him up against his chest, Sans settled back against the pillows, still petting Razz’s spine. Razz shuddered. Spent mana spilled from his soul, dripping onto Sans’ sternum, hot and viscous. Razz’s sockets went wide and his features flushed. He started to pull away, completely mortified. “Oh, _stars_ ,” he moaned, burrowing back into his blanket nest. “This is _disgusting_. Just…just get out. Leave me alone.”

Sans tried to peel the blanket back. “c’mon, sweets. it’s not that bad. it’s just a bit of magic discharge. same thing happens when we’re fucking. it’s not a big deal—“

“ _It’s a big deal to me!_ ”

Sighing, Sans sat back on his heels, rubbing the back of his neck. He just…he didn’t know what to do. Physical contact would help, even if they weren’t intimate. Soul sex would be best, of course, but complete isolation was only going to make Razz more miserable. “razz….”

“Just…go away, Sans.”

Sans flinched. “…i’m here to help—“

“I don’t want your help! I just want it to _stop_.”

Leaving felt wrong. Staying felt worse. “right. well.” Slowly, he drew away and climbed off the bed. His hands hung at his sides, limp and useless. “i’ll call in the order at lunch. pastries’re on the bedside table. call me if you need me. i’ll…be in the living room. watching netflix. or something.”

Razz didn’t say anything, and the lump under the covers just shivered in response.

 

His joints were swollen and achy, and he felt cold, even though he knew he had to be burning up. Sweat beaded on his bones, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get his soul to dispel. To his distress, it continued to leak steadily, the sticky magic gumming up his spine and ribs. It was disgusting. _He_ was disgusting.

Another cramp rolled through him, and Razz shuddered, the pain causing him to curl in on himself. This was a special kind of hell, he decided. A special kind of hell that absolutely no one deserved. He felt like crying, but refused to allow himself that luxury. He was the Maleficent Razz! He would not cry over something like _this_ , wouldn’t allow his own body to subdue him.

Nevertheless, the temptation lingered. Certainly, he’d faced worse—Swapfell was not an especially forgiving universe—but he’d always been able to do something about it. It was only a week, he reminded himself. A week at most, and then he’d be back to his maleficent self.

He winced. He’d have to take time off from the embassy. Despite ordering Sans not to tell anyone, they’d know. Or, at least, they’d guess. Out for a week? Just after his cross-universal counterpart had his own heat? Of course they’d guess. And that, somehow, was just as bad as the cramps rolling through his soul and the constant, steady drip of magic down his spine.

He lay amongst the sheets, growing increasingly uncomfortable and unhappy. The sheets seemed damp and sticky, from a combination of spent magic and sweat. And they stank. _He_ stank. The smell of magic was thick and cloying—a sickening combination of musky and sweet that only made him feel all the worse. Hunger clawed at his soul, and he finally gave in, snatching a donut from the pastry box and hating himself for it.

He was supposed to be above this sort of thing…but he had to admit the donut was good. Perfectly cooked. The dough was light and fluffy, and just sweet enough. The frosting was nearly too sweet, but in this mood, his body decided it was actually perfect and, in fact, he needed another.

He wasn’t going to eat it. He wasn’t. He absolutely wasn’t.

…it wouldn’t really hurt, would it? He was losing a lot of magic because of the discharge from his soul. It was fine to indulge a _little_ , right?

Groaning in frustration, he flopped onto his front and raked his claws over his skull. He hated everything about this whole thing. This was completely miserable and...he wanted Sans. Cuddling up to him earlier had been the only thing that made him feel remotely okay since this whole thing started. He squeezed his sockets shut. But he was disgusting right now and completely out of control. Sans wouldn’t want him clinging to him like that. Sans had to know he was gross and disgusting—he was just being nice. He was Tale-verse; they did that, stars knew why.

Again, he wanted to cry, the frustration simply too much for him. Instead, he shut his sockets and exhaled slowly—then shuddered when another cramp made his body clench.

The door creaked open. “heya, sweets. it’s lunch time. got chicken pho from the vietnamese place down the way.”

Sans’ presence made something inside of him clench—not a cramp, but close. He pulled the blankets more tightly around himself. He didn’t want Sans to see him like this. He always wanted to be his best for his…. Well. For Sans. Swallowing, he asked, “Can you bring me a bowl?”

“sure.” The door clicked shut and Razz sat up, trying to arrange himself so he could eat with at least a little dignity. As soon as he was arranged to his satisfaction, Sans slipped through the doorway, carrying a bowl of soup.

Magic pooled in Razz’s mouth. He suddenly didn’t care much about the food, though he’d been starving mere minutes ago. Sans had put his shirt back on, and he was wearing that ratty hoodie again, but looking at him only made the fever thrumming through his bones grew stronger. He shivered, swallowing down the magic that flooded his mouth. He crossed his legs, feeling magic start to pool in his pelvis as well. He didn’t need this right now. He was gross and disgusting—how could Sans possibly want to be near him, let alone want him like that?

So he tried his best to swallow down the magic and ignore the press of Sans’ femur against his hip when he sat beside him on the bed. He took the bowl of soup and sipped the broth, shivering again. Sans leaned against him, and Razz went stiff under his hand, the magic in his pelvis starting to thicken and congeal. He tugged the blanket around himself more tightly, hoping Sans wouldn’t notice the glow.

“how’re you feeling?” Razz grumbled something unintelligible. Sans nodded and slipped an arm around him. Even through the blanket, Razz’s bones grew even hotter wherever he touched. “not great, huh? it, uh…it’s not so bad if you’re with someone, you know?” Razz knew. He was hyper-aware of every touch to his fevered bones, of Sans’ breathing. Shame again made him curl in on himself. He reeked of sweat and spent magic; there was no way Sans hadn’t noticed.

“…I wouldn’t ask that of you,” he finally said, taking another sip of the broth.

“what?”

Razz lowered the bowl. “I’m—“ Another cramp rolled through him, and he groaned, clutching at his sternum.

“razz?”

He shook his head. “It’s—it’s fine. But…I’m not at my best right now. I don’t expect you to stay for this.”

Sans went very, very still beside him. “you think…you think i’m just going to leave you? in the middle of your heat?”

Razz raised a brow-bone. He could count on one hand the number of times that Sans had ever sounded angry, so he was rather shocked to hear the suppressed rage in his voice. “Why would you want to stay? I’m—stars, I’m _leaking magic_ all over the place and I’m sweaty and _gross_ —why would you stay?”

“because i love you and i can help you feel better!”

“How could you possible help?”

Sans’ hand slipped under the blanket and into his ribcage. Razz froze, and his fingers curled around his soul. “like this,” he said, thumbing the crease.

Oh. Oh _stars…._

Razz clutched at his hand, scrambling to put the soup on the bedside table. The fire in his joints jumped higher, magic flooding the nodes along his whole body. Bone by bone, node by node, his body went limp, until he was pressed flush against Sans, chin on his shoulder. “S-sans….”

Those clever fingers paused. “do you want me to stop?”

“ _No_ , stars, no—please. Keep doing that.”

“feels good?”

Razz shut his sockets and nodded, shivering. “Yeah. Feels…really good.” Sans nuzzled against him, and Razz whined, wrapping his arms around him. “What _is_ this?” he asked, panic starting to creep back in. “What’s happening to me?”

“shhh. it’s okay. you’re in heat. it can either be really good or really bad. it’s your choice, sweets. you want me to keep doing this? making you feel good? or do you want to curl up and mope?”

Razz was still enough himself to glare. “I wasn’t _moping_ —“

Sans kissed his cheekbone. “nah, i know you weren’t.” He kissed the edge of his mandible, and Razz whimpered. “but you don’t have to spend the week feeling miserable.” Razz tilted his head back and Sans kissed down his cervical vertebrae. “you can let me take care of you.” He carefully tugged Razz’s soul free and gave it a gentle kiss as well. Affection, adoration, love, and care flooded his soul. “make you feel good.” A pale blue tongue swiped up his soul from base to peak. Razz cried out, the sensation so intense his vision went black.

“sound good, sweets?”

Helpless, he nodded and relaxed into Sans’ embrace, all thoughts of self-disgust forgotten.


	8. Unfinished business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twist's past comes back to bite him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - slut shaming, damaging sex aversion, allusion to rape, violence, PTSD, alcohol use. ~~Cliffhanger. I'm sorry~~.

“Papy…this really isn’t necessary.”

Twist held back a sigh and urged his brother forward, fingers itching for a cigarette. He pushed down the craving—he hadn’t had a cigarette in nearly a month now; he wasn’t going to break that streak because Berry was being difficult. “I already told ‘em we were comin’. Ya don’ wann stand ‘em up, do ya?”

“No….” Berry scuffed his feet on the sidewalk, arms crossed. It was past seven, so human tourists were pretty thin on the ground and the shops were starting to close up. A few monsters still walked the streets, though, and Twist waved to them, smiling and nodding as they passed.

When the sidewalk cleared, his smile dropped and he said, “Ya gotta talk ta someone, bro. If ya don’ wanna talk ta me, tha’s fine. But ya gotta talk ta _someone_ , yeah?”

Blackberry huffed and listlessly kicked an empty can. “Don’ wanna talk ta anyone,” he muttered, some of his old accent starting to slip into his speech. Twist flinched and bent down to scoop up the can, tossing it in the next recycling bin they passed. He had nothing to say to that, so he just fiddled with the gold coin in his pocket, rolling it between his fingers as they walked in silence. Up ahead, _Cerulean’s_ loomed, the lettering glowing the same soft blue as the bar’s owner and namesake.

As soon as he made it topside, Underswap’s Grillby took the name Cerulean and went about remaking himself, taking pains to mend his somewhat sullied reputation. Always a savvy businessman, he’d ditched the less savory aspects of his old business and dumped his seedier regulars—there were uglier, harder places for such monsters to congregate in now anyway. If he wanted to remain competitive, then he had to attract a new clientele. Thus, _Cerulean’s_ had been born.

The cool cobalt, teal, and cerulean paints, fabrics, glass, and light fixtures gave the place its own character, and the showy tricks employed by his bartenders often drew a crowd. The bar had few regulars, but it was never empty. Essentially, it was the kind of place that the other skeletons wouldn’t be caught dead it, so it was perfect for their meeting. Twist had made it clear to both Papyrus and Blue that anything they discussed tonight was to remain private. Berry was already torn up about the whole ordeal—they didn’t need to complicate things by involving everyone.

The music playing inside the bar was low-key and soothing, but Twist’s shoulders remained tense and stiff as they stepped inside. He squeezed Berry’s shoulder, but he didn’t react to the gesture. Behind the bar, a blue fire elemental—his fingers flashing with rings of molten gold and one ear flashing with a diamond stud—waved as they came in. Spotting the others, Twist pushed his brother to go sit with them, promising, “I’ll get our drinks.”

Berry didn’t reply, just trudged across the room like a condemned man. Watching him go made Twist’s soul ache. He pushed his apprehension down, though, and put on a smile as he walked over to the bar. He leaned on the counter and C walked over to him, one brow raised. “Ya got horseradish?” he asked.

If C thought it was an unusual request, he didn’t let on. “Sure thing, sugar. How do you want that now?”

Twist spine tingled and his smile became roguish, more flirtatious. He’d always had a thing for fire elementals. “On the rocks’d be fine. Little vodka won’ hurt.” He winked and C leaned closer.

“You sure I can’t talk you into something sweeter?” He propped his cheek on his hand. “It’s my specialty.”

He shook his head mournfully. “Not this time, sweetheart. Ain’t got much of a sweet tooth, but I jus’ might let ya talk me inta sumthin’ I c’n regret later. Another night.”

C giggled. “Oh, I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.” He smirked, looking Twist up and down. “Maybe a hand as well.”

Twist laughed hard. “Lookin’ forward to it, darlin’. Now….” He glanced back at the booth, where his brother, Papyrus, and Blue were all talking softly. He swallowed hard. Berry was pulled in on himself and shaking his head, not looking at either Blue or Papyrus. Twist’s smile never wavered, though. “Put sumthin’ sweet an’ spicy in glass too, if ya can. Fer my bro. ‘e needs a little liquid courage, I think.”

C followed his gaze to the booth. “I think I’ve got just the thing for it. I’ll be over in a moment.” He slid a tumbler of vodka and horseradish over, and Twist took it, nodding his thanks. He wove through the tables, trying not to jostle the other patrons.

As soon as he took a seat at the booth, Berry turned to glare at him. “Do you have to flirt with _everyone?_ ”

Twist ignored the looks Papyrus and Blue were exchanging and fought back a wince. “Aw, c’mon, bro. It was just a bit ‘a fun. Nuthin’ serious.” Berry huffed, and his expression made it clear that he was Very Disappointed and that They Would Be Discussing This Later. Twist really hated that look. He turned away and took a drink, not sure if it was the vodka or the horseradish burning the back of his throat. He shouldn’t have started anything with C. He really shouldn’t have. He was trying to get Berry to relax, not incite him further. “Sorry, bro,” he said softly, reaching out to scrub the top of his skull. Berry batted his hand away, but his features did lose the pinched, unhappy expression he’d been sporting.

…until C swung by and dropped off a tall red drink, sporting one of those little umbrellas. Hip cocked, he surveyed the group. “And how are you boys doing this evening?”

Berry glared, but thankfully, Blue took over. He tended bar for C some nights, and they had a long history; he knew how to politely indicate that they needed a little privacy, and C took the hint. He left the drink for Berry, and nodded politely to each of them, smiling at Twist as he left. Without thinking, Twist turned to watch him go.

Berry sighed, and Twist flinched, slouching a little in his seat. He looked to Blue and Papyrus and said, “Uh…maybe I should let the three ‘a you talk, huh?” He was only going to make things worse. Nothing he’d been able to say or do so far had eased any of Berry’s discomfort. In fact, he’d only managed to make it worse.

Papyrus shook his head, taking Twist’s hand. “NO, NO! TWISTED-ME, YOU SHOULD STAY!” Blue and Papyrus shared a look, and Twist realized he may have miscalculated. “WE’D LIKE TO TALK TO YOU AS WELL.”

His hand tightened around his drink, the other curling in his lap. “Ya really don’ gotta do that,” he said, clearing his throat so it didn’t come out in a squeak. “I got ev’rything covered.”

Blue and Papyrus exchanged another look, and Twist _knew_ he’d miscalculated. “Please, Twist? Stay?”

He itched for a cigarette and was instantly grateful that he wasn’t allowed to smoke in here. “Sure thing,” he said, forcing a smile. “If ya wan’ me here, guess I’ll stick ‘round.” They beamed at him, and he took a long drink, savoring the burn of the horseradish and the alcohol.

Papyrus leaned forward, smiling at both of them. He focused on Berry, though, and Twist’s couldn’t help but feel a touch of relief at that; he might have the chance to think of an escape plan in the meantime. “SO, BLACKBERRY…IT SEEMS LIKE YOU’RE A LITTLE NERVOUS ABOUT GOING INTO HEAT.”

Berry went still and stiff beside Twist. He tried to climb over his brother so he could escape, but Twist caught him around the shoulders and held him down. Leaning down, he squeezed Berry’s shoulders and said, “Hey, little bro, c’mon. They’re here to help. Ya gotta talk ‘bout this. It’s gonna happen—“

“ _I don’t want it to happen!_ ” He sounded so scared and desperate that Twist couldn’t help but wince. He ran a hand down Berry’s back, not sure how else he could comfort him.

“Neither do I,” he confessed, throat tight.

Berry blinked and drew back, as if the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “But you—you’re always flirting and-and you aren’t exactly _picky_ about your—“ His mouth curled with disgust as he spat out, “—‘partners’.”

“That’s different.” He sighed, trying not to look at Blue and Papyrus. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. With anyone. But if he had to have it with Berry, he’d have preferred not to have an audience.

“ _How_?”

He ran a hand over his skull, raking his claws over his coronal suture. “Because I c’n say ‘no’.”

Both Tale-verse monsters sat up straight and exchanged another look. “Wait—“

“TWISTED-ME—“

But Berry drowned them both out. “Can you?”

Twist pulled away from him, sockets wide. He swallowed. Then, taking a deep breath, he pasted on a smile. “Heh. Maybe not—never tried it b’fore.”

Berry shook his head and turned away, disgusted with him. Papyrus coughed, waving to get their attention. “I THINK THERE’S BEEN A MISUNDERSTANDING HERE.”

Twist raised a brow-bone. He thought he’d understood things very well; his brother thought he was a whore. Which, really, wasn’t news, but it still hurt. He just kept smiling, though. “Nah, creampuff. No misunderstandin’. ‘M readin’ Berry loud an’ clear.”

“NO, I MEAN—“

C came by again, surprising all of them when he left a green-tinted drink in front of Twist, a slice of green apple hanging off the rim of the martini glass. “From the lady,” C said, gesturing to the bar. Just as Twist turned to the bar, the scent of apples assaulted him and his soul heaved. He jerked away from the drink like it had stung him, and the woman—the _Spider_ smiled at him, raising a clawed hand and teasingly waving hello.

Magic rushed through his mana lines, pounding in his skull as he stood. His breathing slowed and deepened, and it felt like the world slowed down around him. His head spun, and his body felt too light—like he’d float away if he wasn’t careful. Automatically, he caught Berry’s shoulder and hauled him upright, shoving him into Papyrus’ arms. Daring to look away from the Spider only briefly, he said, “Go home, Sans. Take ‘em with ya. Now.”

“Papy? What’s—?” Berry tried to see around him, but Twist shifted to block his view.

“No arguin’,” he said, voice hard and sharp. “No debate. Jus’ go. _Now_.” He pulled away from them and shouldered his way through the crowd. The ankle monitor vibrated against his tibia in warning, sensing the fluctuation in his magic levels. No magic, he reminded himself. Not unless he wanted to bring down the police and the mages. No doubt a similar monitor graced her thin ankle, so they were at least on equal footing in that regard.

Her gaze never left him as he approached, her smile growing broader and sharper with every step. A green drink identical to the one she’d sent over to him sat in front of her, and she nibbled delicately at the slice of apple. “Hello, dearie,” she said when he came to stand in front of her. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

He hadn’t been fully sure of his own intentions until that moment. “Think we know each other pretty well, darlin’.” He pulled a barstool out and sat beside her, leaning on the bar and grinning broadly.

She laughed and laid a possessive hand on his arm. ~~He had to repress a full-body shudder. Memories like shards of glass threatened to rise up, but he pushed them down. He couldn’t afford to lose focus here~~. Her fingers curled around his ulna, her claws pricking the bone. “Oh, Papyrus, you always were so amusing. I mean your surface name. What do I call you here?”

His jaw popped, but his smile stayed in place. His mind raced, running through multiple scenarios—trying to decide how telling her his name could hurt him. Instinct urged him to deny her anything she asked, simply because she asked for it. “You first, sweetheart.”

The claws scraped his ulna as her thumb rubbed over the bone. Rancid magic rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back. She hummed low in her throat. “I always did like it when you called me ‘boss’? Why don’t we stick to that?”

“Sweetheart, you haven’t been my boss fer more’n half a decade.”

Her fingers tightened and his soul beat hard, magic pulsing through his mana lines. “Easily remedied. So? What do you say, dearie?” She leaned forward, catching his chin between her fingers. “Why don’t we start fresh? Forgive and forget.”

He smiled. “I got a better idea, darlin’. Why don’ you take a long walk off a short pier?”

“Is that any way to speak to an old friend?”

“Friend?” He laughed and shifted his skull to highlight the scarring on the side of his face. “Sweetheart, if this is how ya treat yer friends, I’d sure hate ta see what ya do ta yer enemies.”

“Oh, that’s very simple, dearie—I always gave them to you.”

He swallowed hard. His sins were crawling on his back. “Yeah. Ya did, didn’t ya?” He pulled away from her, yanking his arm free. He Checked her and whistled when he saw her LV. “Looks like ya’ve had ta start doin’ yer own dirty work since I been gone, huh? Hope ya didn’ break a nail, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrowed, then her gaze shifted to something over his shoulder and she smirked. Shit. He reached out an arm and caught Berry around the waist, standing up and pulling his little brother against his chest in one smooth motion. Berry growled in frustration, trying to break free of his brother’s hold. “Papy, let me go! Let me—!”

He slapped a hand over Berry’s mouth and stared down at Muffet. She smirked and sipped her drink. “We done here?” he asked.

“I’m just getting started. You and I have unfinished business, Papyrus.”

Berry thrashed in his arms and he tightened his grip, unwilling to let him rush headlong at the Spider. He wanted nothing to do with her, wanted to forget the history they shared. But there were many things he wanted and knew he could never have. “Shoulda killed ya ages ago an’ been done with it.”

Her smile was sweet. “And I should have crushed your skulls when the two of your showed up on my doorstep, starved and desperate.”

“Sure woulda saved us all some pain,” he snapped, hefting Berry onto his shoulder as he turned to go.

“Papy, let me _go_! Let me—please, Papy, just let me—you know I can take her!” He scratched at Twist’s arm and kicked his ribcage, struggling to free himself. Twist barely felt it. His gaze caught on the door as Papyrus and Blue burst into the bar, out of breath after jogging to catch up to Berry. Time to go—he did not need to involve the sweeter skeletons in this business.

“We aren’t takin’ anyone, Sans. We’re leaving. Now.”

“This isn’t finished, dearie.”

He spun to glare at her. “Yeah? What’re ya gonna do, huh? I know you got some pretty new jewelry ‘round yer ankle, same as I do. ‘Less ya wanna bring the mages down on us, I think we’re done here.”

“I’M SO SORRY, TWISTED-ME. WE TRIED TO HOLD HIM.” Twist cursed silently. He’d taken too long. Muffet’s features lit up, and every bone in his body tensed. Again, he could hear magic rushing through his skull. Everything slowed, and he caught every detail. The way the corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled. Papyrus’ soft breathing beside him. His brother going limp on his shoulder as he too realized what had happened. “OH! HELLO, MISS! I’M THE GREAT PAPYRUS—IT’S LOVELY TO MEET YOU.”

She giggled. “My surface name is Tarantella, since Muffet was already taken. You may call me Ella, though.” She leaned forward and whispered to Twist, like a conspirator, “I did forget how pretty you were before that bit of unfortunate business.” Turning back to Papyrus, she offered a hand and, fluttering her eyes flirtatiously, said, “Perhaps we could get coffee some time—“

Twist dropped one shoulder to let Berry down, shoving him into Blue. He brought his other arm around to grab the side of Muffet’s head and slam it against the bar. He pressed against her, using his whole body to hold her down as he leaned down to hiss, “Stay away from me an’ my people.” He ground her cheek into the bar as he spoke, emphasizing each word. “You un’erstand me?”

She smiled, giggling to herself. Golden magic flooded his damaged socket, dripping down his face and dripping onto the bar. With her free hand, she caught his mandible and pulled him close. “Better than you do.”

His brow-bones furrowed, then he realized the light had changed. Alternating flashes of blue and red came in through the front window, and all the Tale-verse monsters had either scattered or ducked under the tables—Blue and Papyrus, busy restraining Berry, were the only ones that hadn’t taken cover. “Shit,” he muttered, realizing all at once what this must look like. Twist was much bigger than Muffet, and his LV was higher, if only a little. He also looked Fell—from the scars on his face to the scuffed shit kickers he wore—while she managed to look like she’d stepped out of a Tale-verse—dolled up in pink and purple, her makeup perfect, and her features unmarred. Without performing a Check, the ankle monitor would be the only thing to reveal her more sinister nature.

Stepping away from her, he raised his hands high above his head. “Jus’ a misunderstandin’, officers,” he said, speaking clearly as he backed away.

“Then you won’t have any problem getting on your knees and putting your hands behind your head,” a feminine voice said. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees and put his hands on his head. Callused fingers tugged on his wrists, and he winced as the monster-grade cuffs snapped around each wrist. He caught movement out of the corner of his socket and he turned his head, only to see C crouched under a nearby table. His phone was in his hand, and his fingers shook as he put it away. His gaze never left Twist, fear causing his blue flames to grow pale and sickly-looking.

Twist shut his sockets, wincing as he was hauled to his feet with his hands behind his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicknames:
> 
> Ella/Tarantella Tuffet - Twistfell Muffet  
> Hook - Underfell Undyne  
> Scales - Twistfell Undyne  
> Undyne - Undertale Undyne (though Edge will sometimes refer to his Undyne as Undyne)  
> Spike - Underfell Alphys  
> C/Cerulean - Underswap Grillby  
> Boris - Twistfell Grillby


	9. Test your limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge and Rus go on a date. ~~Edge is fine. Really. He'd doing. Just. Fine.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING FOR DETAILED DEPICTION OF EATING DISORDERS. If that's going to trigger you in any way, please turn back.
> 
> Content warning: mild references to undiagnosed PTSD, mild references to past trauma, mild sexual humor, zoos (it's a positive portrayal, but I know some people get upset about that), racism, anxiety, bad coping mechanisms.

Edge fell easily into a routine. He carefully calculated out how much magic he generally expended in a day and how much a skeleton of his size required for subsistence. From those numbers, he was able to estimate how much he could safely cut out of his diet—carefully maintaining that delicate balance between too much and too little. He didn’t want to go into heat— ~~not yet, not now, but later yes; this wasn’t permanent this was only temporary, really~~ —but he didn’t want to collapse in the middle of class either, and he didn’t want to stop any of his normal activities.

So he’d get up early and run for a few extra miles before swinging by Twist’s house to join him for the rest of their run. He ate breakfast before Rus got up, halving his normal portion. But Rus couldn’t suspect anything if there were dirty dishes in the sink, even if he did complain that he missed eating breakfast with him. He’d just waved off his complaints and packed his lunch like always—a simple salad and leftovers from the night before, usually. He never ate the leftovers, but Rus didn’t need to know that. It hurt the part of him that had grown up without, the part that knew other people still had to go without, but he’d generally toss the leftovers at lunch. He ate the salad, though he set the dressing aside.

Dinner was harder. Soup was easy enough—he could fill his bowl primarily with broth without Rus noticing. Anything more substantial was difficult, but he had his tricks. Smashing down the mashed potatoes so the mound didn’t look as tall. Cutting up the meat and pushing it around his plate. Stirring the vegetables around and pushing them off to the side. And actually eating was important, too. Not everything. Never everything, but enough that it wasn’t alarming to see leftovers on his plate. Rus knew his history, which made everything more difficult. So far, though, he’d only pushed him once, and Edge was able to claim that he’d had a hard day, and Rus hadn’t pursued the matter further.

By his calculations, he was doing well, but Saturday would complicate things further. He’d be spending the day with Rus—to make up for skipping out on him last Sunday—and Rus would be watching him. He’d have to deviate from his careful calculations. He’d run the extra few miles before meeting up with Twist, and he could feel the familiar pull on his soul as he climbed the stairs to take a shower. The strain felt good; it soothed his anxiety and quieted the voice that insisted he was going to go into heat if he didn’t stick exactly to his regimented schedule.

One day. He could give Rus one day, and so long as he didn’t overindulge, it wouldn’t set him back very far at all.

He ducked under the spray of hot water and reiterated that to himself, silencing the niggling voice at the back of his mind. The water washed away the red-tinted sweat beading on his bones and steam filled his thoracic cavity. It felt good, the water hot enough it nearly hurt. He’d be fine. He could enjoy a day out with his boyfriend.

Shutting off the water, he stepped out of the tub and dried off, running the soft terrycloth between his bones. When he was dry enough to know he wouldn’t drip on the carpet, he wrapped a towel around his hips and stepped out into the bedroom. The lump under the covers stirred, and he couldn’t keep the soft smile from his face. “Good morning, lazybones.”

Rus groaned, peeking out from under the covers. “hhng…come back to bed. it’s too early to be up yet.”

“It’s eight thirty.”

“see? way too early. ‘m not complaining about the view, though.”

Edge rolled his eyelights and unceremoniously dropped the towel to start getting dressed. Rus whistled, and Edge flipped him off for it. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready to join me.”

“…that’s not a metaphor for oral, is it?”

Shaking his head, Edge walked over to the bed and kissed Rus, cupping the side of his face. His soul swelled, growing warm and light. He pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. “No, dearest. It’s a metaphor for cleaning the house so we can go out later. And if you help, then we’ll have more time for our date. It’s up to you, of course,” he said, his voice overly saccharine.

Rus grinned. “so what you’re saying is, i can stay here and sleep in?”

Edge patted his cheekbone. “Try it. See what happens.”

They kissed again, and Rus allowed Edge to haul him to his feet. He yawned and scooped a dirty tank top out of the hamper to pull on. Edge looked skyward, pained, but he didn’t protest. Rus could wear dirty clothes to clean the house if he liked. But he’d certainly be changing his clothes before they went out. Edge would make sure of that.

Still half-asleep, Rus went to start the laundry, while Edge put away anything that had found its way out of its proper place during the week. Rus vacuumed, and Edge did everything else, and within a couple hours, their small condo met Edge’s strident standards. He shoved Rus under the showerhead, insisting he get clean before they head out. “where’re we going, anyway?” Rus asked, raising his voice to be heard over the water. Edge was out in the bedroom, searching through Rus’ clothing for something appropriate.

“You’ll see,” he called back. He pulled a pair of black jeans from the dresser and an orange flannel shirt from the closet. Smirking, he also pulled a rust-colored jacket from Rus’ absurd collection. ‘Absurd’ because of the ridiculous number of orange hoodies and because of the various patterns and decals they bore. This one boasted black arms and a pair of fox ears on the hood. It seemed appropriate for the occasion.

Rus emerged and eyed the outfit on the bed. “you picking my clothes for me now, edgelord?”

“Only because I can’t trust you not to dig something out of the hamper. You’re free to wear whatever you like—just as long as it’s _clean_. I thought I’d remove the temptation.”

Pulling on the pants—without making some kind of innuendo, miraculously—Rus eyed him contemplatively. “so we aren’t going anywhere too fancy,” he observed, “or you’d have made me wear a suit.”

Edge leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “As if you would. Considering how much you seem to enjoy it when I wear a suit, I thought you’d be more willing to return the favor.”

Smirking, Rus pulled on the jacket. “ah, c’mon, precious. don’t pretend you don’t think i’m a stone-cold fox.” To punctuate the pun, he pulled the hood up and winked.

Rolling his eyelights, Edge tugged on the hood, temporarily blinding Rus. “Never mind. Our date is cancelled. Go back to bed.”

Laughing, Rus wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in, nuzzling the side of his face. “spending a day in bed with you doesn’t sound like much of a _pun_ ishment.”

Groaning to hide his own begrudging amusement, Edge slipped his arms around Rus’ waist and ribcage. “I’m sure I could think of something,” he said. They kissed, and Rus pulled back, the corners of his sockets crinkled in a genuine smile.

For a moment, Edge’s soul swelled, aching. He cupped the side of Rus’ face. There were so many things he wanted to say in that moment. That he was so grateful for Rus. That he loved him so much it made his chest hurt. That he was so terrified of losing him or hurting him or disappointing him or—

Instead, he gave him another kiss, this one soft and brief. He stroked his thumb over Rus’ mandible, then he pulled away and cleared his throat. “Come on. We don’t want to get stuck in lunchtime traffic.”

“you could tell me where we’re going and i could teleport there—“

“No.” Rus hadn’t been there anyway, and Edge wanted to keep it a surprise.

Since Rus still refused to get on the back of Edge’s motorcycle, they took the car. As they drove, Rus pointed out various places of interest around Ebott, hoping to guess their destination by pure chance. Edge just kept saying ‘no’, until Rus finally said, “the zoo?”

“No.”

“…edgelord, we’re pulling into the parking lot.”

Edge parked and pulled the key out of the ignition, looking over at his lover. “My apologies; being with you, I’m so accustomed to saying ‘no’ that I temporarily forgot how to say ‘yes’.”

Rus bounced in his seat, his sockets wide. “aw, man—i’ve been wanting to come here for months! i thought you weren’t interested?”

Edge coughed, cheekbones alight. “I was…misinformed. As to the nature of the zoo here.”

Blinking, Rus looked at him, one brow-bone raised. “what did you think it was?”

His cheekbones brightened further. “It’s not important. The important thing is—they’re very highly regarded and, by all accounts, their animals are treated very well. And you’ve been wanting to go.” He really didn’t want to talk to his Tale-verse boyfriend about being forced to tour Asgore’s ‘menagerie’ when they were still Underground. It wasn’t really a memory he wanted to revisit, and certainly not one he wanted to burden Rus with.

That answer didn’t look like it was going to satisfy Rus, so Edge stepped out of the car and walked around to his side, opening his door for him—signaling an end to the conversation. Rus probably didn’t like it, but when Edge offered his hand, Rus took it and allowed the subject to drop. He laced their fingers together, squeezing. Edge kept his control hand free, though, and he couldn’t suppress the urge to keep an eye out as they crossed the parking lot. Rus chuckled. “you’re not on duty, edgelord. relax.”

Edge offered a tight nod, but he was keenly aware that they weren’t in Monstertown anymore. If they got into a bad spot, Rus could likely teleport them out, but that didn’t mean he was willing to drop his guard. “Just…stay close.”

Rus shook his head, fondly exasperated. Edge didn’t say anything, keenly aware of the differences between them. Rus had likely never had to stand between an angry crowd and a hated king, had likely never felt the spark of muted hatred in the air, or seen how quickly violence could erupt from a previously peaceable crowd. And Edge was grateful for that. So, so grateful. Angel willing, Rus would _never_ experience those things. Edge, on the other hand, could never forget them, so he watched their surroundings keenly.

He took note of the group of teenagers passing a water bottle between them—smuggled alcohol, no doubt—and the security guard that eyed him and Rus as they passed through the gate. He watched the mothers and fathers that caught their breath when Edge and Rus passed them, saw the way they pulled their children close. He noticed the staring of the children and the way others—adults, adolescents, college kids—would whisper to each other as they passed.

Rus didn’t see it. He didn’t notice. Or, if he noticed, he was doing a wonderful impression of blissful ignorance. He took a map from the ticket-booth attendant and studied it as they passed the gate, pointing to various exhibits and babbling excitedly about the wildlife on display. It brought a small smile to Edge’s mouth, despite his lingering unease. “Where do you want to start?” he asked, still watching the passersby. Stars above, were they really the _only_ monsters here?

“they have a big cat exhibit—why don’t we start there?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Edge eyed the map, then glanced at the signs. Rus kept hold of his hand, and Edge led the way, navigating around the milling humans. Again, he ignored the stares and the muffled exclamations. When they reached the entrance to the big cat area, though, Rus made an excited sound and darted forward, dragging Edge along. It was startling, but Edge couldn’t hold back a small smile. It was rare to see his boyfriend this excited about anything, and he was delighted to be there to witness it.

Rus ran from enclosure to enclosure, leaning on the railing and searching the well-designed habitats for the animals. A desert enclosure housed a sleeping sandcat, only the tuft of an ear visible from his burrow. The caracals were housed as a mated pair, and on seeing them curled together, Rus dug his phone out of his pocket to take pictures. Edge rolled his eyelights, but he was smiling. “Are you documenting our date for your followers?”

He paused, no doubt in the middle of picking the right filter. “no!” He hastily shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Edge snorted, guiding him to the next enclosure. If they weren’t in public, he’d have kissed him on the cheek. “Go ahead.”

His smile grew slowly. “really?”

Loftily, Edge said, “So long as I’m not in any of the pictures, you can post whatever you like.” Even if Edge didn’t understand it—and even if aspects of it made him nervous—he tried to be supportive. It made Rus happy, and as Papyrus had pointed out, Rus’ social media presence did more to normalize the presence of monsters on the surface than they might expect.

Giddy now that he had permission to live tweet their date, Rus pulled his phone back out and started posting immediately. He took copious pictures of the clouded leopard and the tiger on display, trying to find the perfect angle of each. Edge just shook his head, smiling even as he kept an eye on the humans around them. Rus snickered when they reached the manul cat’s enclosure, though, asking, “hey. what’s your bro’s twitter handle?” Edge raised a brow-bone. “right, never mind. i’ll find him.”

“Why do you need it?” Edge asked, baffled.

“because…” Rus held the phone up to take a picture, snickering to himself. “i need to tag him in this.” Edge almost asked ‘why’ again, then he took a look at the cat. He grit his jaw, trying not to laugh. “you see it, don’t you?”

“Shut. Up.”

“but you _do—_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he hissed, “I see it.”

They looked at each other, and Rus wiggled his brow-bones. At that, Edge finally had to admit defeat and gave in to the urge to laugh. From the heavy fur coat, to the cat’s snaggled tooth and mean expression, it looked exactly like Red. Edge couldn’t have said so himself, but now that Rus had pointed it out, he couldn’t unsee it, and he couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up.

As he finally got control of himself, he saw Rus peering at him from behind his phone. “you should laugh more often, precious. suits you.” He turned his phone around, displaying the picture he’d just taken of Edge. Between the easy smile and the crinkled sockets, he barely recognized himself.

Clearing his throat, he looked away, a warm red blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Yes. Well. I hope you know better than to post that.”

Rus’ arm slipped around his waist, landing on his ilium. He rubbed the crest with the pad of his thumb, smoothing down any feathers he may have ruffled. “don’t worry. that one’s just for me.” Before he could lean in for a kiss, Edge looked away, again keenly aware of their surroundings. “we’re not underground,” Rus murmured. “what are you afraid of?”

He shook his head. Now was not the time for this conversation. “Later.”

“i’m holding you to that. c’mon. let’s find a food cart—it’s way past noon, and I’m starving.”

An objection rose up, but he pushed down the urge. He'd already decided he could afford to ignore his careful calculations for one day. It was _fine_. He’d be _fine._

So he allowed Rus to pick out a food cart and purchase some street tacos for them. He tried to ignore how heavy the magic felt as it incorporated into his soul, tried to ignore the pair of humans staring at them across the courtyard and whispering to themselves. Both got much harder when one of the humans called out, “Hey! Monsters! Yeah, you two—“

The other human was grabbing at the first, shaking her head and saying, “Trev, _don’t,_ ” but she was obviously laughing as she said it.

“—how does that work, anyway? The whole eating thing? Doesn’t it just pass right through you?”

Passing humans glanced over and looked away, studiously ignoring the pair. “Oh my _god!_ ” the second human said, looking at the skeletons nervously as she tugged her companion away. “I cannot _believe_ you actually said that!”

“What?” he asked, staring at them and grinning even as she dragged him along. “I’m just curious! You can’t tell me you’re not curious. I mean _look_ at them! They’re skeletons! How does that even—?”

She successfully tugged him out of earshot, but Edge was suddenly all too aware of the people staring at them. His spine was stiff and his shoulders thrown back, and he found himself scanning the crowd the way he used to Underground. Even Rus—who tried to find the joke in everything, who seemed oblivious to the danger of simply being different—was a bit put out after that. Nevertheless, he doggedly ate his tacos, waving cheerfully at anyone who stared at them for too long.

“are you going to eat yours?”

Edge looked at the taco and back at his boyfriend. He didn’t want it. He hadn’t wanted it to begin with. He wanted to refuse it. Wanted to say he wasn’t hungry, but he knew that Rus’ smile would go stiff and his eyelights would contract. He’d be upset, and today was supposed to be a good day. “Yes,” he said. “Let’s find somewhere quieter, though.”

Rus beamed, pleased by his answer. He wrapped an arm around Edge’s hip and led him away, searching for somewhere not as heavily trafficked. Edge forced himself to eat, managing to get it down in bits and pieces, picking off a piece of tortilla or a few strands of cabbage at a time. No matter what he ate, he could only taste ash, and as it incorporated into his soul, it seemed to sit there, heavy and hot.

They continued on to view the other habitats, and all the while, Edge was aware of that hot, heavy lump. And no amount of logic Edge tried to apply could convince him that it wasn’t the first sign of heat. He pushed down the fear, repressed the mounting anxiety, but Rus could definitely tell that something was wrong. “you want to go home?” he asked, catching his hand as they stood in front of the crocodile exhibit.

“No,” he said, exhaling hard.

“…those kids upset you that much?”

“ _No_.” He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to say that those hooligans were not _children._ They were more than old enough to know better.

“look, edgelord, if you’re not having fun—“

He squeezed Rus’ hand and he took a deep breath. “I’m enjoying being with you.”

Rus eyed the crocs. “you sure?”

“About being with you? There are some days I question it, but I can’t say I regret it on the whole.”

Rus cracked a smile. “not really what i meant.”

Edge took a quick look around, making sure no one was watching them, before he planted a careful kiss on Rus’ cheekbone. “Enjoy yourself. Being around so many humans has me…” He winced, then forced himself to say, “ _on edge_. But since I have no intention of going back Underground any time soon, that’s just something I’ll have to get used to.”

Rus was too busy snickering at the pun. “you sure? ‘cause if we go home, then _i_ could be on—“

“There are _children_ ,” he hissed, blushing. “Come on, then. I’m sure your Twitter followers will be very disappointed if you don’t post a picture of this scaly beast.”

Rus nodded, raising the phone to take a picture. Then he grinned and asked, “hey, edgelord? does hook have a twitter?”

“I think so.” He furrowed his brow-bones. “Why?”

He turned the phone around to show his picture of the mud-covered croc. “’cause these are some great nudes of her girlfriend, and i want to tag her in them.”

Edge choked.

Rus dragged him all over the zoo after that, stopping at various food carts throughout the day when he got peckish. For once, Edge was grateful that his boyfriend favored junk food; it gave him a good excuse to pass when Rus asked if he wanted churros or ice cream or something of that nature. He wouldn’t be able to skip dinner later that night, but he might be able to get away with ordering a salad.

They stayed past sunset to watch the bats emerge from their roost, listening to the zookeeper as they talked about the bats’ habitat and habits to a crowd of watching humans. It was late by the time they left, and Edge drove toward Monstertown. He’d considered finding a human establishment to finish their date, but after spending the entire day surrounded by them, coming back to their corner of the city would be a welcome relief.

Rus lounged in the seat beside him, watching the lights flash by. He was smiling softly, and his bones were loose and relaxed. Tired, Edge thought, but in a good way. Without thinking about it, Edge took one hand off the wheel and reached for Rus’ hand, holding it loosely. “What do your followers think of our date?” he asked.

Rus chuckled. “they’re impressed so far, but what they really want to know is where we’re going for dinner.”

Edge shook his head, smirking. “How do they feel about Napstaton’s new place?”

“hmmm…not sure. a little high-brow isn’t it? unless you are taking me home and forcing me to change into a suit.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I meant the burger place he just opened—with the cat?”

“oh, yeah. hmmm…that’d be okay.”

“Is there someplace you’d rather go?” Rus didn’t answer, and Edge dared a quick glance at him. “Rus?”

He was fiddling with the zipper of his jacket, looking down at his scuffed converse. “i, uh…would you be willing to try muffet’s café? you don’t have to! i’m…i’m really okay with ntt’s, but…muffet’s a friend, you know? i know you have a history with yours, but i think you two would be friends if you….” He winced. “you know what? never mind. let’s go to ntt’s, huh?”

Edge drove in silence for a while. “We can go to Muffet’s,” he finally said. “If that’s what you want.”

Rus winced again. “no. i mean—i don’t want to push you. being out today was…pretty big, right? it was a lot. maybe another day. but….”

Edge wanted to protest, wanted to say that he could handle it, but his soul was already in knots and he could already feel a deep ache building in his shoulders. Still, he’d planned this date for Rus. He’d give him the world, if he could, but on the surface, Edge felt like he was always coming up against roadblocks—their finances, the humans’ racism, and worst of all, his own limitations. It seemed like he should at least be able to control the latter. Before he could insist that they go to Muffet’s, though, his phone rang. “Would you get that for me?”

Nodding, Rus pulled his phone out of the holder and held it up to his acoustic meatus. “hello?” For Edge’s benefit, he said, “oh, heya, hook! did you see my—wait what? _what?_ ”

“Rus?” Picking up on the panic in Rus’ voice, Edge stole a glance at him, resisting the urge to snatch the phone from him. With his phone vision, that would have been disastrous.

“yeah, okay, we’ll be there soon. okay. yeah. yeah, i’ll tell him. thanks, hook.” He hung up the phone and gripped the front of his hoodie. “looks like our date’s been cut short. twist got into some trouble at c’s.”

Edge immediately changed routes. “At Cerulean’s? What the fuck was he even doing there?” It was hardly Twist’s style. He was far more likely to join Red at Grillby’s, or to drag Edge, Cash, Rus, and Slim over to some equally sordid establishment.

“i don’t know,” Rus said, his voice strained, “but the cops are there already. pap’s doing some fast talking, but hook wants someone there to back him up. she’s across town, apparently, or she’d do it herself.”

“What’s Papyrus—?” He sighed heavily. “Never mind. Anything else I should know?”

Rus eyed the phone in his hands. “…his muffet’s involved.”

Edge’s soul went cold, his mana lines prickling uncomfortably. He swore violently and vehemently, tearing his hand from Rus’ grip to slam it against the console—earning a wince from Rus. “I _knew_ —!” His throat closed, and he swore again, pressing the gas pedal toward the floor. Fuck the speed limit; this was an emergency. “She came in last Sunday. I forgot to warn him. I— _fuck_.”

“hey, you couldn’t have known—“ Edge glared at him, and Rus held up his hands. “right, fine. we’ll think about this like rational people later.”

“When we get there, you teleport home.” He took the off-ramp for Monstertown, heading toward Cerulean’s. Rus opened his mouth, but Edge shook his head. “This isn’t up for debate. I—“ He swallowed hard. “Rus, I _need_ you to go home. Do you understand me? If she’s anything like—“ Memories rose up and he forced them back, forced them down, even when it felt like he was handling glass bare-boned. “—like my Muffet, I don’t want her to so much as see you.”

Rus was quiet, but as they pulled into Cerulean’s parking lot amidst the flashing of red and blue police lights, he said, “okay, precious. i get it. good luck.”

Edge leaned across the seat and kissed him hard. “Thank you,” he said against his mouth. “Lock the doors. Be safe.”

“call me before you head home. keep me updated.”

“Of course.” Another kiss, and then Rus was gone. Some of the tension uncoiled from Edge’s soul. Rus, at least, was safe. Then, after taking a slow, steadying breath, he stepped out of the car and stood to his full height, pulling his embassy ID out as he did so. He surveyed the scene, holding back a wince when he saw Twist seated against the club’s brick façade, his hands handcuffed behind his back. He was speaking to two officers. Two more officers were speaking to the Spider, the two groups separated by at least twenty feet. She was not handcuffed, Edge noticed immediately, cursing internally.

Papyrus, Blue, and Blackberry were being held back by a fifth officer, which really made him wonder just how many police officers they thought they’d need for this call. Approaching the fifth officer—who looked visibly pained to see yet another skeleton monster—Edge held up his ID. “Good evening, officer,” he said, being careful to remain calm and pleasant. “May I ask what’s going on here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at that. I actually found a use for my ridiculous "the skeletons as big cats" headcanons. 
> 
>  
> 
> [This is what a Manul Cat looks like, by the way.](https://www.boredpanda.com/pallas-cat-manul-funny-face-expressive/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=organic)
> 
>  
> 
> Running list of nicknames:
> 
> Ella/Tarantella Tuffet - Twistfell Muffet  
> Hook - Underfell Undyne  
> Scales - Twistfell Undyne  
> Undyne - Undertale Undyne (though Edge will sometimes refer to his Undyne as Undyne)  
> Spike - Underfell Alphys  
> C/Cerulean - Underswap Grillby  
> Boris - Twistfell Grillby


	10. Sideshow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge helps Twist pick up the pieces, ignoring the cost to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I've been trying to keep the two storylines relatively separate so that people that weren't interested in the TwistedPuppyMoney storyline could focus on the Spicyhoney (and vice versa), but there's a lot of crossover in this chapter. It's got a heavier focus on the Twist storyline, but the latter half is more heavily focused on Edge.
> 
>  **If you're trying to avoid references to Edge's eating disorder, then don't read past the point where Edge leaves the Twistbro's house. Everything after that is focused on him, and it is pretty ED heavy.** The paragraph that begins "Edge left the small house and its occupants behind" marks the change in the chapter's focus. 
> 
> **Content warning** : police officers, references to the possibility of police brutality/corruption, references to past abuse, references to murder/violence, LV issues, high LV treated like a terminal illness, high anxiety, prejudice against monsters, monster registration program, references to stalking behavior, panic attacks related to past abuse, eating disorder angst. 
> 
> It's a pretty intense chapter. If I missed any tags, let me know, and if you're concerned about anything, feel free to contact me on Tumblr.

The officer looked Edge up and down, visibly tensing when she saw the scars. “I’m gonna have to ask you to stay right there, sir,” she said, holding up a hand. “This is a police matter.”

He obediently stopped, but he didn’t put his ID away. “I’m here as a representative of the embassy—“ Papyrus made a sound, and Edge added, “A _sober_ one.” Papyrus winced, but didn’t protest that. So they had been out drinking together. "What happened?"

“You can request a police report when we’re finished here,” she said firmly. “It’ll be available in a few days.”

His jaw ticked. He looked away, tucking his card into his pocket. “Listen,” he said, lowering his head and his voice so she had to lean in to hear him. “I understand that you’re just doing your job. Believe me—I was part of the royal guard for years. I respect what you’re doing here, and I don’t want to interfere with that.” He took a breath and caught her eye. “But I also need to keep the peace in my community. Monstertown is small. We all know each other or know of each other. Having two Fell-verse monsters arrested outside a Tale-verse establishment is going to—“

“Fell-verse?”

Internally, he cursed. He never would have thought he’d find himself wishing for a mage, but when the alternative was ignorance, he found that he would have preferred dealing with one of the magic wielders. “Yes,” he confirmed, “They’re both Fell—they’re from the same Underground, actually—“

She studied him through narrowed eyes. “Stay here.” Backing away, she spoke quietly into her radio. One of the officers speaking to the Muffet— ~~what was her nickname again?~~ —looked over, his radio crackling. He marched over, arms crossed. The two officers spoke quietly, glancing at Edge and the others. Then they both joined the four skeletons, the male officer studying them through hard eyes.

“What do you know about these two?”

Edge raised a brow-bone, unprepared for this line of questioning—and unprepared for Blackberry to press against his side, sharp claws digging into his arm. “They’re both from the same Underground,” he said again, “but I’m afraid I don’t know much about their relationship.” Shaking his hand free, he clapped a hand on Blackberry’s shoulder and pushed him forward. “This is his brother. He should know something.”

Betrayed, Blackberry tore away from him. The two officers focused on the small skeleton, though, waiting for him to speak. He just lifted his chin and glared at them. Surprised, Papyrus put a hand on his shoulder. “BLACKBERRY? WHY DON’T YOU TELL THE NICE OFFICERS WHAT’S GOING ON?”

He glared at Papyrus too. “Ain’t got nuthin’ ta say,” he said, his accent slipping back into his speech. The officers exchanged a look, and the male officers shook his head, ready to return to Muffet and continue taking down her side of the story.

“ ‘Berry,” Edge said, stooping a little to catch his eyelight. “If you know something that could help keep your brother from being sent back to the detention center, then now is the time to share it.” Blackberry wilted a little and his gaze slipped to the ground. He looked really young in that moment, and Edge remembered that both he and Twist had grown up in the Hotland ghettos, just like him and Red. “This isn’t Hotland,” Edge murmured, and Blackberry jolted, looking up at him with wide sockets. “They don’t serve Asgore—and they can’t be bribed or bought. They’re doing their best to keep the peace here, but they need more information.”

He held back his own reservations—that the law these officers served could be nearly as unjust as a Fell ruler, that they themselves could be swayed by their own prejudices, that everyone had a price—and searched Blackberry’s face. On his other side, Papyrus planted a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Blue was anxiously watching the other officers as they questioned both Twist and Muffet, his whole body taut.

Slowly, Blackberry exhaled and shut his sockets. Not looking at the officers, he said, “She was our…guardian fer a few years.” He opened his sockets, mouth starting to twist into a sneer. “She-she hurt 'im.” He touched his face, tracing a path that reflected the spiderwebbing cracks across Twist’s cheekbone. “A lot. She’s not a good person.” The officers dutifully waited for Blackberry to say more, but he just hunched in on himself. “Please. Can we just go home now?”

They looked at each other. “You four are free to go at any time,” the woman said.

“What about—“

She held up her hand. “We’re still taking your brother’s statement. But it looks like the victim—“ Blackberry grumbled something under his breath, deep blue magic flushing his cheekbones. “—isn’t going to press charges.” She glanced at the male officer. “Given the circumstances, I don’t think we’ll be making any arrests tonight. But I suggest—“ Her tone made it clear that this wasn’t a mere suggestion. “—that all of you keep clear of Miss Tuffet in the future. Especially your brother. Is that clear?”

Darkly, Blackberry said, “I’d cut off an arm if it would keep her from bothering us.”

The two Tale-verse monsters struggled not to react to that, but the police officers were not reassured. “Do you think you can do that?” she asked more forcefully, as if she hadn’t heard what Blackberry just said. “Keep him away from her?”

It looked like Blackberry had something on just the wrong side of disrespectful to say, so Edge squeezed his shoulder and said, “Yes. We can keep them apart.”

She relaxed a little. “Good. You folks seem decent for monsters.” Blue quietly stepped on Papyrus’ foot when he jolted at her phrasing. “I really don’t want to arrest anyone—or call the mages out to bind their magic.” Edge repressed a shiver. He was forever grateful that Papyrus and the other Tale-verse monsters had managed to talk the humans out of that particular course of action. “But that means you—and your friend—need to stay out of trouble and keep your tempers. Okay?”

She waited expectantly, so they all nodded. She shut her notebook and looked back at Edge. “That police report will be available in a few days for the embassy’s records. If you want to wait here for your friend, that’s fine, but you need to keep back.” Her radio crackled again and she listened to it, responding in short, clipped sentences. When it went silent, she looked at the other officer again. “Sounds like I’m needed elsewhere. You got this handled?”

“Yeah, I think we’ve got it.”

She nodded and took her leave. Not long afterward, one of the other officers released Tuffet. When she started down the sidewalk past the four skeletons, the male officer got between her and them, raising a hand when she started to say something to them. “Ma’am, I think it’d be best for you to go home now.”

“Oh, of course!” she said, and Edge shuddered, hearing the sound of her voice. She sounded so much like his own Muffet it was unnerving. “I just wanted to apologize for ruining their little boys’ night—I had no idea Papyrus would react like that! Such a shame. LOVE can do the strangest things to the gentlest of monsters, ahuhuhu~.”

Blackberry started to lunge, but Edge caught him and crushed him against his side, holding him back. “Don’t,” he hissed, squeezing him. “It’s what she wants.” Nevertheless, her laugh made his mana lines run cold, and his own soul was hammering hard. Still, Blackberry didn’t fight him, though he was nearly vibrating with a mix of rage and fear.

The officer urged her on, and she left, her hips swaying purposefully as she walked home. Edge exhaled hard and didn’t protest when Blackberry slipped his arms around him, turning Edge’s restraining hold into a tight hug. He ran his fingers down Blackberry’s skull, scratching his coronal suture. On instinct, he reached for the collar around Blackberry's neck—only to remember that he didn't have one. Under the neckerchief, his cervical vertebrae had been worn smooth. Politely, Edge pulled his hand back and pretended he hadn't noticed. They all had their secrets, and he wasn't going to pry. 

All four of them watched the three remaining police officers converge on Twist. He was still seated against the wall, his hands still cuffed behind his back. They were too far away to hear anything, but Edge could see the tight smile on Twist’s face as the officers spoke to him. Covertly, Blue got out his cell phone and started recording. Edge didn’t ask why. There was something very unnerving about the scene, and Edge’s instincts insisted that things were about to take a turn for the worse. To his surprise and relief, though, one of the officers caught Twist by the shoulder and hauled him upright. He spoke as he undid the cuffs, and Twist immediately rubbed his carpals, massaging the fragile bones. He was nodding in response to the officer's words, giving every semblance of agreement. His smile even managed to look friendly. Relieved, Blue put the phone away.

When they finally gave him permission to leave, Twist wiped the spent magic from his face and shoved his hands in his pockets before joining the four skeletons, grinning when he saw Edge. “Aw, heya, edgelord! Little birdie tell ya ta look in on us? Or, heh, a little fishie?”

Edge was suddenly very glad for the officers' presence, otherwise he might have given in to temptation and punched Twist in the face. “I’ll be taking you two home,” he said crisply, letting Blackberry go so he could cling to his brother. “I assume you two can find your own way?” he asked Papyrus and Blue.

They hesitated, looking at each other. Blue stepped forward, reaching for Blackberry. “We, um. We’ll talk later, right?”

Edge wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but Blackberry managed to huddle even closer to Twist. He didn’t say anything, and Twist winced, placing a protective hand on top of his brother’s skull. “’nother time, baby-blue.” He nodded to Papyrus. “I’ll, uh…I’ll call ya later. You two get home safe now, right?”

“We’ll be fine,” Blue said, “I didn’t drink, so I’m good to drive.” He hesitated, searching the Fell-verse skeletons’ features for answers. “You guys will be okay, though. Right?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Don’ worry ‘bout us, yeah?”

Edge’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t interrupt. Better to get the Tale-verse skeletons out of here and on their way. “I’ll look after them,” he said, “Go home, pipsqueak.” He turned his head, watching Ella Tuffet's retreating form disappear into the darkness. “Lock your doors when you get there.”

“We always do,” he said, and they turned to leave.

Two more of the officers got into their patrol car and pulled away, but the remaining pair lingered, keeping an eye on the three skeletons. It was making Edge’s bones itch. “Come with me,” he ordered, starting toward his car.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, edgelord. We walked. We c’n—“

Edge spun on his toes and stepped into Twist’s personal space, so close he had to tilt his chin up to meet his sockets. “Twist. Get in the car.”

Some unnamed emotion crossed Twist’s features. His eyelight twitched to the side, noting the pair of officers still on the scene. He kept smiling, but Edge could see the tightness in his jaw and the magic flickering behind his cracked socket. As Edge suspected, then—he was still riding the crest of his LV, fighting to keep hold of himself. “Sure thing, sweetheart. After you.”

He urged his little brother forward, following along behind him. Blackberry looked almost lost, but Twist gently pushed him on, guiding him to the car. Edge waited for Blackberry to climb into the backseat before he sat in the front. Twist lingered outside the passenger door, his gaze distant and fixed on something Edge couldn’t see. Until Edge honked the horn. Then he shook his head, more fresh magic slipping down his cheek from between the cracks in his socket; it looked nothing like tears.

He wiped the magic away and slid into the front seat, immediately starting to drum his hands on the dashboard to whatever rhythm he heard in his head. His foot tapped restlessly to a different rhythm entirely. Edge allowed it. He just made sure both of them were buckled in, then pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. The drumming continued as Edge asked, “Would you care to explain yourself?”

“Nope!” His voice was forcibly cheerful, but Edge could hear the strain in it.

“You lost control!” The drumming stopped, but his foot still bounced restlessly. “You’re fucking lucky the police came. Luckier still they let you go. What if you’d killed her, Twist? Where would you be then?” Twist didn’t say anything. His gaze was fixed outside the passenger side window, on the darkened shops they passed. “Are you listening to me?”

“Nope,” he said again, but this time his voice was flat and bitter. Edge swore, but Twist just turned in his seat to look at Blackberry. “How’re you holdin’ up, little bro? Doin’ okay?”

“ _Twist_ —“

“You should have let me kill her, Papy.”

“Stars on fire,” Edge muttered, “You two are going to be the death of me.” Louder, he said, “No one is killing anyone! We aren’t Underground anymore.” He pulled into their driveway, careful not to crowd Cash’s car. None of them got out.

“She’s not going to stop,” Blackberry said tonelessly. “She left us alone in Snowdin because it was too cold for her to chase us down. She’s not going to stop. Now that she can reach us, she’s not going to stop. She’s not going to—“ His breath hitched and Edge turned in his seat. Blackberry was folded over himself, and heavy blue tears tracked down the sides of his face. “She’s not going to stop!”

Twist unbuckled his seatbelt and reached back, squeezing his brother’s shoulder. “Hey. C’mon, ‘Berry. None ‘a that. We’ll be fine. We c’n—“

“ _No_!” His sockets were wide and magic flickered deep inside his skull and between his fingers. “No. We have to. We have to stop her. We have to-to—I don’t _know_ , but we have to do something!”

Twist’s gaze dropped, and he shook his head. “Nah, sweetheart. Ain’t gotta do nuthin’. C’mon. Let’s head inside, yeah? Ya wan’ hot chocolate? Think I c’n manage that much without burnin’ down the house.”

He slipped outside and Blackberry followed on his heels. “Papy, take this seriously! We have to do something or she’s going to—“ A low whine caught in his throat and his hands clenched.

Edge followed behind them, locking the car. “Shhhh,” Edge hushed him, catching hold of Blackberry. When it looked like he was going to protest, Edge pointed to the other houses on the street. “Wait until we get inside.”

His breath hitched, but he nodded. One hand on his shoulder, Edge guided him up the walk, following behind Twist. When the door shut securely behind them, Twist stretched and said, “How ‘bout you, edgelord? Ya wan’ hot chocolate?”

His soul revolted at the very idea. “From you? I think not.”

Twist cracked a grin. “Suit yerself.” Shrugging, he stepped around the counter and started pulling milk from the fridge and chocolate chips from the pantry. Without measuring, he poured both together into a pot and set it on the burner. “Spicy er sweet?” he asked his brother, not looking up.

“Papy, we need to talk about this. What are we going to do about her?”

“…maybe both,” Twist said to himself as he fetched both sugar and chili powder. “Sweet an’ spicy—“

“ _Papyrus_.”

Twist winced and froze, his hands hooked around the edge of the counter. He exhaled slowly. “Told ya, sweetheart. We don’ gotta do nuthin’. ‘s a waitin’ game. Her LV’s nearly high as mine. Jus’ gotta wait it out, an’ the problem’ll take care ‘a itself. We keep our heads down and we don’ say ‘boo’ ta nobody an’ it’ll go away.” He exhaled hard, releasing the counter. He looked at the chili powder and at the sugar like he didn’t really know what to do with either, then dumped a measure of each into the pot.

Blackberry, however, looked like someone had punched him in the gut as he realized the implication of Twist’s words. His sockets had gone wide and his breathing was too fast. “How.” He sniffed, wiping more tears away. “How could you say that? It’s not. It’s not true—“ Edge reached out to him, but Blackberry flinched away, his gaze never leaving Twist’s frame.

Twist looked up, and he gripped the counter so hard the mana drained from his knuckles, leaving the bone pallid and devoid of color. “Yeah, Sans. It is. Jus’ be grateful it means she won’ be our problem fer too much longer. Jus’ gotta wait ‘til she loses it. Shouldn’t be too long, knowin’ her. Soon as things start goin' wrong, she'll lash out. Find someone ta blame fer her troubles.” Edge swallowed hard and tried to keep his breathing level. "Then they'll either pick her up and throw 'er back inta the center or she'll lose it completely. Fall ta 'er LV. Either way, she won' be our problem no more." Cocking his head, Twist narrowed his sockets and tilted the pot this way and that, searching its depths for something he couldn’t seem to see.

“ _No!_ ”

Twist ignored him. Brushing the tears away, Blackberry marched into the kitchen and started digging around in the pantry. “Hey! Hey, what’re you doin'? What're you lookin' for?”

“My herbs. I’m sure there’s something here that I could use to—“ Twist hauled him up and dragged him out of the kitchen. Blackberry immediately started fighting him, kicking and squirming. “Put me down! ’m not gonna let her—! She’s already—! I won’—can’t—!” Too upset to be coherent, Blackberry’s words jumbled and mixed together and more tears gathered in his sockets, even as he pushed at his brother’s hands and tried to pry his fingers away.

“Twist—“ Edge reached for him, concerned, but Twist glared at him.

“Trust me ta handle my own brother, huh? I ain’t gonna hurt ‘im an’ I ain’t as stupid as all ‘a you seem ta think I am,” he snapped. Edge lowered his hands, but he kept close. In the living room, Twist sat Blackberry down on the couch and knelt in front of him, his single eyelight blazing bright. “Enough,” he said, leaning close. “That’s _enough_ , Sans. Ya hear me? Stop it. Ya ain’t gonna do nuthin—“

“ _I’m not going to let her hurt you again!_ ”

Twist’s smile was anything but amused. “Yeah? Then you’ll leave her the fuck alone, ya got me?” Blackberry tried to get up, but Twist caught his arms and forced him to stay down. “Listen ta me. Right now. Lookit me and _listen_.” Blackberry looked up and Twist held his eyelights. “I kept yer hands clean—on the surface, if not deep down.” Blackberry started to fight again, but Twist shook him lightly. “ _No_ , damn it. Listen ta me. I kept yer hands clean. Ya ain’t got any LOVE. Yer free up here. No tracker on yer leg.” He swallowed. “No timer tickin’ down. Yer _free_ , Sans. Tha’s my gift ta you. The one thing I didn’t manage ta fuck up. An’ you ain’t gonna throw that in my face jus’ ta chase down a fuckin’ Spider that ain’t gonna last long up here anyway. She’ll lose it or she’ll fuck up and break one ‘a the humans’ rules. Don’ matter which; I don’t give a shit. The only thing I do give a shit ‘bout is seein’ you here on the Surface, livin’ happy an’ free. Ya got me?”

Blackberry shook his head, unable to wipe the tears away, unable to catch his breath. “I never asked ya. Never asked. Never. Not fer that.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know ya didn’.” He exhaled hard and pulled Blackberry close, hugging him tight. “Promise me ya won’ do anythin’ stupid. Ya won’ try ta poison Muffet. Won’ track ‘er down. Promise me you’ll leave her 'lone.”

Burying his face in Twist’s chest, Blackberry mumbled a miserable, “I promise.”

The tension bled out of Twist’s frame. “Good. Then let’s—“ The pot on the stove boiled over with a harsh hissing sound. Twist shut his sockets and sighed, looking skyward. “How ‘bout I make tea instead?” Blackberry nodded, looking sick. “Lavender an’ chamomile?” Another nod.

As he passed, he glanced at Edge and said, “You wan’ tea too? Or have ya seen ‘nough ‘a the sideshow fer tanight?”

Glancing at Blackberry, Edge lowered his voice and followed Twist into the kitchen. “Twist, listen.” Twist turned off the burner and looked at the dark mess in the pot with a sigh. “I need to make sure you’re not going to do anything you may regret later.”

He laughed, the sound short and sharp. “Why stop now?”

Edge crowded close, catching his wrist. “I mean it.”

Twist turned, and Edge swallowed, seeing the misery in his sockets, even as he continued to grin. His LV had finally settled, and Edge well knew the kind of hollow ache it left behind. “Look, edgelord, I ain’t gonna go lookin’ fer trouble.” His gaze shifted to his brother. He lowered his voice. “But I wouldn’t be s’prised if trouble went outta its way ta find me. C’s ain’t exactly _her_ kind ‘a place.”

Edge’s sockets went wide. “You think she followed you?”

Twist shrugged. “I think she’s got a small army ‘a spiders that c’n go pretty much anywhere they please without bein’ seen.” Edge gripped the counter, his soul coiling tight. Twist's gaze flicked to his brother once again. “Will ya…?” His jaw twitched. “Will ya look in on ‘im? When I’m gone?”

“You know I will.” They’d already had this conversation. They both knew Twist’s LV was eventually going to get to him. It was really just a matter of when and how. “One thing, though.” Twist raised a brow-bone, and Edge leaned close. “If you dare use this as an excuse to go out fighting, I’ll find a fleshy monster to piss on your dust. You understand me?”

He laughed, pulling away from Edge to put the kettle on the burner. “Sure thing, edgelord. I think we understand each other.” He eyed the clock. “Why don’t you head home now? ‘m sure yer bonefriend’s waitin’ up fer ya.”

Edge looked at Blackberry. “You have everything in hand?”

Twist snorted. “Never. But all the fires’re put out fer now. Go home, sweetheart.”

“Fine. Call me if anything changes.” Twist waved him off and started preparing the tea.

As he passed the couch, Edge squeezed Blackberry’s shoulder. Blackberry patted his hand in gratitude but didn’t otherwise react. Edge crossed the living room, pausing when he reached the hallway—Cash stood just inside, his arms crossed and his features unreadable. Edge narrowed his sockets, but Cash just stepped out of the hall and flopped onto the couch beside Blackberry. No way to know if he'd been eavesdropping or for how long, but Cash wasn't his problem, so Edge let it go without a word. 

Edge left the small house and its occupants behind, but his mind was still preoccupied as he drove back to the condo he shared with Rus. Twist’s words kept echoing back at him—about trouble finding him, and about Ella Tuffet’s small army of spiders. All the way home, his soul wound tighter and tighter, until a phantom ache settled in his chest. It felt like he was being strangled. As soon as he pulled into the garage, he dug his phone out and checked the registry.

Monsters were, by law, required to register their address with the local mage’s guild. Their names and type were withheld, but their LV and their address were both public information. In Monstertown and around Ebott, the information couldn’t really be used to track down an individual monster simply because there were so many. But the Muffet from his Underground had moved South as soon as they emerged onto the Surface. He pulled up the website and confirmed that a monster of 14 LV was still living on the outskirts of that small desert town.

He exhaled hard and leaned against the back of the driver's seat, covering his sockets with one hand as he exhaled shakily. He clenched his hands; they felt shaky and weak, but a glance at them revealed they were as steady and stable as they'd ever been. His soul still pulsed with anxiety, but checking the registry had helped. He ignored the niggling reminder that all she had to do was move without updating the registry. The consequences for doing something like that were dire, particularly for Fell monsters; she might hate him, but her sense of self-preservation was surely stronger than her desire to torture him further.

He stayed in the car until he could breathe normally, until his hands didn't feel like they were shaking. He didn't want to burden Rus with this. He could handle it on his own. Exhaling slowly, he shored up his defenses and made his way inside, announcing himself as he hung up his jacket. 

Rus was waiting for him at the kitchen table, a few boxes of takeout in front of him. “everything okay?” he asked, standing to greet Edge with a kiss. 

“Yes,” Edge said automatically as he pulled away. Then he sighed. “No. It’s—“ His fingers curled and he swore softly. “Sit down.” They both sat at the table, and Rus took his hand, rubbing his thumb across the metacarpals. Taking a deep breath, he told him everything—or, at least, everything he knew. “Your brother might have more information. He was at C’s when it happened.”

“yeah, he texted me. told me not to worry about him.”

Edge nodded, looking at the takeout boxes. “You ate?” he asked hopefully. 

“i was waiting for you to get home.” His soul dropped, and he looked away. Rus pulled him closer. “edge.”

He shook his head, allowing his head to drop. “I can’t.” Checking on the location of his Muffet had helped, but his soul was still tightly wound. It churned and roiled, and just the smell of food was making him ill. He couldn't even fake it right now. Maybe tomorrow morning, but not right now. 

“it’s okay, precious,” Rus said, scooting his chair over so he could pull him into his side. “you’ve been doing really good since we got to the surface.” Edge’s soul dropped, tightening further as he thought of the last week. His calculations. His regimented schedule. His careful, calculated efforts to deceive his lover. Rus just continued to hold him close, rocking slightly. Edge felt cold in his arms. “why don’t we call it a day, huh?”

“Aren’t you going to eat—?” The very idea that Rus might forgo food because of  _him_ was appalling and more than a little alarming.

“i’ll eat while you shower.”

Edge, relaxing a little, nodded and stood up, squeezing Rus’ hand before he went upstairs. The warm water eased his bones a little, but it did nothing to soothe his soul, and he was happy to find Rus waiting for him in bed. He crawled in beside him and settled close, resting with his head on Rus’ chest. He shut his sockets, listening to the rush of mana through his mana lines and the dim pulsing of his soul. Rus wasn’t especially good at projecting, but the faintest trace of / comfort / safety / love / emanated from him.

“i love you.”

Sockets shut, Edge nodded, one hand resting over his ribcage. “You too,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running list of nicknames:
> 
> Ella/Tarantella Tuffet - Twistfell Muffet  
> Hook - Underfell Undyne  
> Scales - Twistfell Undyne  
> Undyne - Undertale Undyne (though Edge will sometimes refer to his Undyne as Undyne)  
> Spike - Underfell Alphys  
> C/Cerulean - Underswap Grillby  
> Boris - Twistfell Grillby

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [@itsladykit](https://itsladykit.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. I post updates, drabbles, headcanons, answer asks, and occasionally reblog kickass art.


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